


The Art Of The Matter

by koganphrancis



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU Gallavich, Depressive Episode, If anything on the show ever triggered you please consider that before reading, M/M, Reference to Monica's canonical suicide attempt, Reference to a gay hate crime, Shameless Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: Based on art and idea from the brilliant Blodeuwedd (iknewyoudcome on Tumblr).  Graffiti is part of any city's landscape, and some of it is quite interesting and intriguing-and so are some of the artists who paint it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An AU set in a world where Mickey and Ian didn't grow up knowing each other.

 

Mickey Milkovich was lurking. He could try to justify it anyway he wanted, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he was lurking.

The Chicago Tribune living section had run a story the Sunday before with a full color picture of a mural Mickey had done, and the site had already become a bit of a local landmark. Mickey didn’t think the wall was his masterpiece-that was something he felt was still eluding him and his creativity would kick in and provide it at some future time-but out of everything he had painted so far, this was probably the best.

He had been inspired while he was poking through a bin of old vinyl records at some decrepit old music store and had come across Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings From Ashbury Park. The cover was like an old time postcard, and Mickey thought he could do something like that for his hometown, plus he knew just the wall downtown to do it on.

Over a few painfully stealthy nights, he had snuck to the wall in the wee hours of the morning and created his art. He got the bulk of the work done the first night, but it was the most detailed piece he had ever created and he kept going back to embellish pieces of it here and there.

He had lurked around a couple of days after it was completed and was more than a bit amazed that people reacted so strongly and so warmly to it. People were taking pictures of it, taking pictures of themselves in front of it, and discussing it with the other admirers looking at it. A whole bunch of perfect strangers, brought together by something he had done.

Once the novelty of that wore off, Mickey would just go by it while on his way to other places and would just catch comments on the way by, but hadn’t stopped to absorb reactions. But now that the feature had run in the paper, there were actual crowds around his painting, and he couldn’t help but be a bit curious as to how they were reacting to his work.

He noticed a guy studying the “A” in his mural. Truth be told, he probably would’ve noticed the guy anyway, he was striking. Tall, handsome, and with red hair blazing in the morning sun. But the “A” was Mickey’s favorite part of the painting, so he snuck a little further towards the wall to see if he could read any kind of reaction from the guy. The redhead wasn’t with anyone, so he wasn’t talking to anyone, but Mickey had seen strangers strike up conversations over this painting, so he held out some hope.

When he got closer, he could see the man had a stamp from a club on the back of his right hand. Mickey recognized the logo: a fairy from the Fairy Tail club in Boystown. Mickey rolled his eyes. That place was a total meat market, men went there for one thing and one thing only-an easy score with no strings attached. Mickey should know, he was pretty much a king of one night stands. Actually, he never even stayed the night, since his passion for tagging meant he needed the darkest hours of the night for himself.

Unfortunately for Mickey, whatever the man thought of his work was going to remain a mystery. The stranger glanced at a watch on his left wrist and took one last look at the painting and then walked away.

That evening, Mickey got to the wall he had scouted out a few days ago, and couldn't believe his eyes when he got close enough to see a silhouette of a tall man with a hoodie shaking a spray can in front of the wall-HIS wall.  Mickey crept up on the guy and gruffly said, "And just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

The tall man whirled around, throwing a punch with his left hand, his right hand still held the can.  Luckily, being raised by Terry Milkovich meant Mickey was always on his guard and that he knew how to duck a punch.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Mickey all but shouted.  "What if I had been a cop?" 

The other man shrugged.  "I didn't hear you coming, you snuck up silently," he said, breathing heavily but his voice was relatively calm.  He looked down at Mickey's feet, which were clad in beat up old black Chucks. Then he slowly let his eyes trail all the way up Mickey's body, giving him an appreciative once-over.  Who the hell did this guy think he was Mickey wondered.  Since the guy was staring at him, Mickey stared back.  Long legs, trim but not too skinny body.  His face was in shadow but Mickey could see he not only had the hood up, but he was also wearing a knit beanie cap over his hair this warmish spring night.

"Well, I ask again, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mickey said, using his toughest South Side bark. 

The taller man looked down at the can in his hand.  "Art," he said.  Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Well, find some other place to do it, Rembrandt, this wall is mine."  All the menace Mickey could manage was in his voice.  He glared at the stranger.  He was willing to fight for this wall, and he bet if push came to shove, the other guy would wind up wishing he had backed off. 

"Doesn't have your name on it," the other guy snarked, stepping closer to Mickey so his face was out of the shadow and his eyes actually sparkled-sparkled!  At Mickey!  This clown was going down...

"Look, pal, I'm just not in the mood, all right?  I've got my stuff here," Mickey let the duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder fall to the ground, the sound of cans jostling inside, "and I already had to give up on my first choice of spots today, so you run along and find some other place to 'art' and I'll take this one." 

 

"Yeah, no thanks," the other guy said, pushing back his hood and peeling off the beanie to reveal red hair.  Mickey recognized him now, he was the dude looking at his mural...the dude with the Fairy Tail stamp.  "I like it here.  We could share..."

"Fuck you," Mickey said. 

"Suit yourself, I tried to be generous, but I was here first and them's the rules."

Mickey just looked at the guy-how was he not intimidated in the least?  Mickey COULD hand him his ass.  "Look, pal, it's not worth me fucking you up for it, but that don't mean I won't."

The other guy just smiled.  "I noticed your knuckle tats.  I'm Ian, by the way," and the guy actually switched the spray can to his left hand and held out the right for Mickey to shake. 

"Do you wanna die?" Mickey growled.

"No.  Just trying to be friendly," Ian smiled at him again, dropping his hand.  Mickey squinted at him, why wasn't he showing Mickey any concern?  "What was your first choice?"

"Huh?"

"Your first choice of spots that you aren't using, so you came here?"  Ian explained.

"Uh, the sidewalk right when you get off the L at Ashland/63rd," Mickey said, surprised into answering by the randomness of the question. “It was bare and perfect a couple days ago, and that’s a high traffic spot for people to see, but when I went back there someone had painted a message piece there already-said something like ‘Let’s change the world for good’.” Mickey had admitted to himself that was a clever double-meaning type of message and he secretly loved anything clever like that. But he wasn’t about to share his admiration with this joker.

Ian's face lit up.  "Hey, that's my work!"

"Bullshit..."

"No, here, look," Ian dug a battered iPhone 4 out of his back pocket and scrolled through some photos, and then held the phone out so Mickey could see it.  "That's it, right?  I did that."

"Yeah?" Mickey said, stepping forward to take a closer look.  "Got any of your other work I can see?" 

"Sure," Ian said.  Mickey stepped next to him and Ian scrolled through a series of photos.  Mickey unconsciously put his hand under Ian's on the back of the phone to angle it so he could see better.  Both men felt sparks.  Mickey looked up, further up than he had to before now that he was standing so close to the taller guy. 

"I, uh, I've noticed all of these.  Have to admit, you're pretty good," Mickey said begrudgingly.  Ian blushed and didn't know what to say, so he just scrolled to the next photo.  It was Mickey's Chicago mural.  Huh, maybe this Ian guy was just full of shit after all, Mickey thought suspiciously. 

"Oh, I've seen that one too-you did that?" Mickey asked. 

Ian replied right away.  "Oh man, I wish.  That one's not mine, but it's so intricate I took a picture so I could study it whenever I want.  No one knows who did it.  I took that picture when it was completed about a month ago, but whenever I'm near there I go and look at it."

"I, uh, I think I saw you there today, looking at it," Mickey said. 

"You were there?"  Ian said.  "I didn't see you." 

"Yeah, well, I sort of keep an eye on it myself," Mickey said, rubbing the side of his thumb along his bottom lip.

"Holy shit-it's yours?  You did that?  Dude, that thing is amazing!  How did you..."

"Look, since you're a fan and all," Mickey said sarcastically, "I guess you can have this wall.  You do good stuff, you were here first, I'll find someplace else."  Mickey picked up his bag again, ready to move on.

"Wait?  What?  No, man, take this wall," Ian said.

"Nope, like you said, them's the rules.  You've been beating me to good spots all over the city, but there's plenty of places for me to work too."

"Let me buy you a drink!" Ian blurted out, as Mickey started to walk away. 

Mickey turned around and pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, leaning back against the wall. "Bitch, you wish," he drawled.

"I don't want...look, I want to make it up to you, for stealing two spots from you in one day."

"No need," Mickey insisted, smoke blowing out of his nose. 

"I'll buy you a pack of smokes," Ian said.  Mickey dropped the half-smoked stick to the dirt at his feet and ground it out with his heel.  He puffed out a ball of smoke from his mouth like he was spitting.

"Trying to quit," he said in his best wiseass voice, shoving off the wall and getting ready to leave yet again. 

"I don't even know your name!" Ian said.

"None of your fucking business, that's my name," Mickey smirked, starting to walk away for real this time. 

"Come the fuck on, man!  I'll get you flowers, candy..."

"Make it a fucking Snickers bar," Mickey mumbled almost to himself.  He doubted the tall redhead even heard him.  He flipped Ian the bird over his head without looking back.  "See you around, Rembrandt!"

Mickey walked away thinking over his conversation with the admittedly very hot looking redhead. He still couldn’t believe the guy almost clocked him-what if he had actually been the police? That thought made a song pop into Mickey’s head he had blasted non-stop on an old boom box Iggy had stolen back in Mickey’s junior high school days. He thought how that could make an interesting mural and instantly thought of a curved underpass he had been keeping in mind for the perfect art. He had thought all along he needed to put something bold and stark under there, since there wasn’t much light. He detoured home to get a lot of cans of white paint, the design taking shape in his mind as he went. He emptied out his duffel bag to fit in the cans of white, added a couple more cans of black, and then repacked a can each of green and yellow for accents. He spent a couple hours expressing himself through art, stepped back and admired his “Fuck The Police” wall, and then got home in time to snag a couple hours’ sleep before he had to be at work.

A few days later he wandered by the wall he had surrendered to old Ian Rembrandt, curious as to what the guy had come up with. Mickey walked around a corner to get a full view of the wall and stopped dead in his tracks.

On the brick wall, Ian had rendered an oversized candy bar, the packaging and the font matching a Snickers bar exactly, except instead of the word “Snickers” it said “Smickeys”.

Mickey burst out laughing. The fucker had heard him after all, but how did he know Mickey’s name? Mickey was positive he hadn’t given it up, he never did to a stranger. Mickey looked at the wall again and actually laughed out loud again. He had to give Ian credit, this was a surprising and funny and perfect painting. Mickey was also really touched. No one had ever cared all that much about making something for him, ever. Mickey owed him at least a thank you, now all he had to do was find the guy.

That night after work, Mickey went home and showered and then headed back out after eating his supper and watching some TV. If Rembrandt was where Mickey thought he might be tonight, there was no point in getting there early. The Fairy Tail usually didn’t really come to life until after ten PM.

When Mickey arrived, he paid the cover, got his hand stamped, and wandered inside. It was a weeknight, but the place was still pretty packed. Mickey fought his way to the bar, looking around. He ordered a light beer since he had work in the morning and started scanning the place. Sure enough, he spotted the tall redhead out on the dance floor. He was dancing with a guy, but not grinding up on him or even touching him in anyway. Mickey figured what the hell, he had come here to see the guy, might as well go see him.

He battled his way through the teeming throngs of men, holding his beer up high so it wouldn’t get jostled. When he got close enough to Ian that he might hear him over the pounding techno beat Mickey yelled out, “Yo, Rembrandt!”

Ian looked over and broke into a huge smile. He left the guy he was dancing with to walk closer to Mickey-the other guy just kept dancing.

“Mickey!” Ian yelled over the club noise, then his face looked uncertain. “Your name IS Mickey, isn’t it?”

Mickey broke into a big grin. “Saw your artwork. Pretty sure you know my name.” He raised his eyebrows. “How did you find out?”

Ian got all cocky, “I’ve got connections in the underground art world,” he said, for all the world sounding like he was in some spy network. Mickey gave him a “really?” look with his expressive eyebrows. Ian got even closer and spoke into Mickey’s ear. “I went back to your Chicago mural looking for clues. I asked a few people milling around if they knew who the artist was, but no one did. Then I noticed a homeless guy sleeping on the other side of the street…”

“Stanley,” Mickey said. He should’ve known. “I hope he didn’t give me up too cheap.”

Ian laughed. “Are you kidding? I had to buy him one of those KFC meals that feed four people for twenty bucks, plus a fifth of Jack. I told him I’d give him a bottle of Wild Turkey if he’d tell me your last name, but he had to admit he didn’t know it. I got him the bourbon anyway and gave it to him with the promise he’d give you a card with my email address on it if he ever saw you out there.”

“You in the habit of trusting old drunk hobos?” Mickey said.

“I was raised by one,” Ian grinned. “So, your turn. How the hell did you find me?”

“Noticed the hand stamp when I met you the other day,” Mickey said, conveniently leaving out the part where he also noticed it when he was checking Ian out before they even met.

“And you knew it came from here…” The unspoken question was clear.

“I might have been here a few times over the years,” Mickey admitted. Ian’s big smile got even bigger.

“You wanna dance?” Ian shouted over the music.

“No, I don’t want to dance,” Mickey said like a crabby old man. Ian just smiled all the more. “I could, uh, buy you and whoever you’re with a round, you know, to thank you for the candy bar…” Mickey added.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” Ian said. “And, uh, the guy I’m with? I’m just his designated driver, we’re just friends, you don’t have to buy him a drink-or me a soda or anything. I’m just tickled you liked your painting.”

Mickey grinned. “Tickled” was such a cute word. Mickey had a secret fondness for strapping tall guys using words that normally you wouldn’t expect to hear coming out of their mouths.

“Let me buy you a drink, I don’t want to lose you now that we’ve found each other again,” Ian said.

“You wanna chitchat some more, or do you wanna get on me?” Mickey asked.

Ian blinked. “Really?”

“Sorry if I’m being too bold, but places like this just give me a headache and I’ve got work in the morning,” Mickey said.

“Uh, yeah, let me just tell my friend…” Ian took off into the crowd before Mickey could stop him. Damn, he had forgotten about the friend.

Ian wove his way back to Mickey and grabbed his free hand. Mickey put his beer glass down on the nearest table as he followed Ian to the exit. Once they were outside, they could finally talk at a normal volume.

“Shit, man, I forgot about your friend. If you need to drive him home…” Mickey began.

“Please, his whole point of coming here is to NOT go home with me at the end of the night,” Ian grinned. And there’s always the El or Uber if he can’t manage-but he always manages. Come on.”

Ian led the way to a parking garage a few streets over and they retrieved Ian’s car. It was very old, and very beat up, but it ran and that’s all Ian cared about.

“So, um, I sort of live with people,” Ian began.

“Oh.” Mickey stopped, he couldn’t seem to think for a couple of seconds. “You, uh, live with someone?”

Ian laughed. “Yeah, my sisters and brothers. I’m going to college and home is all I can afford right now. We’re squeezed in kind of tight-I don’t have my own room.”

“We can go to my place,” Mickey said quickly.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” Ian said, grinning as he put the car in gear.

Mickey directed him to his apartment building where Mickey even had an off street parking spot he was entitled to use, but didn’t have a car so that was free for Ian to put his junker there. Mickey led the way inside, and they walked up to the third floor.

Mickey’s apartment was tiny, but it was neat and clean. When you walked in the door, there was a kitchen area immediately to the left, and a living area to the right. Mickey had a couch and a small flat screen TV and an old recliner set up in a sort of a circle, and in the corner there was a desk with papers and notebooks and a laptop on it. All the walls had sketches and paintings stuck to them, Ian hoped he’d get a chance to look at them more closely at some point.

So, ah, make yourself comfortable or whatever,” Mickey said, waving to the couch. “Do you want anything? I know you said you don’t drink, but I might have some pop, and I know I have water…”

“Water would be nice,” Ian said. Mickey brought him a bottle from the fridge and then excused himself.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Mickey said. Mickey walked down the apartment’s one hall and Ian heard a door click shut, and a minute after that heard a flush and then water running. Ian was looking at the sketches he could see from his seat on the couch-he felt it would be kind of intrusive to try to get a closer peek since he just got here.

Mickey returned, going to the kitchen first to grab himself a water. When the refrigerator door was open, Ian noticed the glossy picture of Mickey’s mural from the Tribune was stuck there with some magnets. He got up off the couch to take a closer look. When Mickey saw what he was looking at as he shut the fridge door, he looked down at his water bottle and shuffled his feet a bit.

“Pretty dopey, huh? Me hanging that up?” Mickey said.

“Not at all-that’s the one problem with our art-it’s hanging elsewhere,” Ian said. This is so cool you have this, you should get it framed.”

“Naw…Hey, um, mind if I ask you what you liked about it?” Mickey said, heading back to the couch. Ian peered at the picture and then looked over to Mickey.

“I loved all of it, but my favorite thing about it is the A. I love how you got all the sports teams in there.” Ian walked over and sat on the couch with Mickey.

“That’s my favorite too,” Mickey admitted. It was a bitch to fit them all in, I was so tempted to leave out-hey, are you Cubs or Sox?”

Mickey’s question took Ian off guard. “Why do I feel like you won’t like me if I answer wrong?” he laughed nervously.

“Cuz I won’t.”

Ian gulped, was this guy serious? “I can convert if you need me too…”

“No good, Rembrandt. There’s only one right answer.”

Ian took a deep breath. “Sox.”

“Fucking A,” Mickey smiled. Ian laughed in relief. “I don’t give a shit the Cubs won the Series, I only put them in there because I’m a stickler for having things complete.”

“I get it,” Ian said, relieved he and Mickey rooted for the same team.

“So, do you mind my asking what you do?” Ian asked. “And maybe your last name? Mine’s Gallagher, by the way-don’t know if I mentioned it.”

“You hadn’t-that’s part of the reason I had to hunt you down too,” Mickey smiled. “So, mine’s Milkovich, and I work as a bookkeeper.”

Ian’s surprise was written all over his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thug like me, crunching numbers, it’s kind of hard to imagine. But something’s gotta pay the bills. I was on a bad path, and I got assigned this Big Brother really late in the game. I was sixteen and practically had aged out of the program, but some juvie judge made it happen, and the guy was helping me study for my GED and he could tell I had a way with numbers and he was, well, is, a CPA and he put me to work and here I am, still working for him all these years later,” Mickey shrugged.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” Ian said. “How many years has it been?”

“Eight,” Mickey said. “I started out just doing errands at his office, but he let me start filling out simple forms with clients and stuff-he’d check it over after-and the more I did, the more I learned, and the more I could do. Never took any classes, everything’s been on the job training. How about you?”

“Going to college part time, working in a diner for my sister part time,” Ian answered. “It’s taking me a while to get my degree, I’m twenty-three and still have a couple of years to go at this rate.”

“Got a major?” Mickey asked.

“Early childhood education,” Ian answered.

“You wanna be a teacher?” Ian nodded.

“I wanted to be an art teacher, but with the way schools are cutting funding and eliminating those classes, my college advisor told me I’d be better off qualifying to teach whatever I was most interested in after art, so I picked elementary school because you get to teach all the subjects. Maybe even art if I get hired at a school that offers it.”

“That’s so cool,” Mickey said.

They sat for a moment, just looking at each other. Mickey was the one to break the silence.

“Can I kiss you, Ian?” Ian grinned and nodded. Mickey placed his water bottle on the low table in front of his couch and scooted closer to Ian while Ian put his bottle down too. Mickey watched Ian’s face as he brought his own closer, his gaze flicking from Ian’s eyes down to his lips. He was just about to move all the way in when Ian’s voice stopped him.

“You brushed your teeth,” Ian stated, pulling his head back.

“Well, yeah…”

“Well that’s not fair! Here you are minty fresh and I’m gonna taste like that one glass of watered down Pepsi I had a couple of hours ago,” Ian said.

Mickey tilted his head. “I don’t mind,” he promised.

“Well I do, you have me at a disadvantage.”

Mickey laughed a little. “You serious?” Ian nodded. “All right, come on, I can fix this.” He got up off the couch and Ian followed him. Mickey went into his tiny bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet behind the mirror over the sink. There wasn’t much in there, just a can of shaving cream and a razor, an unopened bar of Irish Spring, a bottle each of aspirin and Tylenol, and scattered on the bottom shelf there were at least five toothbrushes still in their packages, all pink.

Ian’s eyebrows rose. “You have a harem of women parading through here?”

“Don’t be so sexist-they’re for my sister, she inevitably forgets a toothbrush every time she blows through town. She hates pink, so I stock up on these at the dollar store. She IS sexist.” Mickey laughed. He took one of the toothbrushes off the shelf and slapped it into Ian’s hand. “Toothpaste is on the top shelf, tough guy, and there’s mouthwash under the sink if you really want to go nuts. I’ll leave you to it.”

He left, shutting the door behind him, and Ian noticed the little old fashioned plastic dispenser of Dixie cups hanging on the wall next to the mirror. Ian brushed his teeth, putting his toothbrush into the holder on the sink that held what he assumed must be Mickey’s toothbrush and that also had three empty holes. He availed himself of the mouthwash too, taking the opportunity to see what Mickey had stored beneath the sink-some toilet paper rolls, some cleaning products for the tub and toilet, a thing of baby powder, a stick deodorant, a cologne bottle. Ian liked that the guy lived so simply. The bathrooms at his house were a study in clutter. Ian tried to keep his stuff tidy, but he was fighting a losing battle there.

Since he was in there, he used the facilities and then washed his hands. When he returned to the living room, Mickey had the TV on. He clicked it off when Ian walked back into his view.

“You can leave that on if there’s something you want to see,” Ian said.

“Naw, just turned it on for the background noise. Mandy-my sister-says I’m a hermit and I’m too used to having the place quiet. Whenever she’s here I have the TV on too just to, I don’t know, give the other person some privacy? It is kind of weird to hear the water running and stuff. I’m usually the only one here. I’m weird, right?”

“No, Mickey, you’re not weird. I have the opposite problem-it’s never quiet at my house, so I have to get out to find quiet,” Ian said.

“Hence the isolated life of the late night guerilla artist?” Mickey grinned.

“Hence,” Ian agreed with a nod. He sat down next to Mickey. Close. “Now, where were we?” he said. Mickey was getting lost in Ian’s eyes. He had thought they were green, but up close they were a ring of blue around green closest to the irises and the most beautiful eyes Mickey had ever seen.

“I was gonna kiss you,” Mickey said, his voice low.

“And I was gonna kiss you,” Ian said, leaning closer. Their lips finally met. Mickey’s plump lips were just as soft as they looked. Ian’s lips fit to them perfectly. Mickey tilted his head slightly, and gently sucked Ian’s bottom lip so it was slotted between his own. Ian reached his hand up to the back of Mickey’s head and applied the lightest pressure to get Mickey to tilt his head some more. Mickey’s brain registered how good Ian’s gentle touch felt.

Mickey placed his hand on the back of Ian’s neck and let it slide up into Ian’s thick, soft hair. He moaned a bit and Ian let his tongue slip into Mickey’s mouth. They both applied more pressure to the kiss and let it heat up. Mickey wrapped his free arm around Ian trying to pull him closer, their knees were sort of in the way. Without breaking the kiss, Ian lifted himself off the couch and sort of loomed over Mickey, who got the idea right away and leaned back on the couch till he was almost prone. He scooted his butt to the back of the cushions, leaving Ian room to set himself down next to Mickey again. Mickey’s head was at a bit of an awkward angle against the armrest, but he didn’t care. He cradled Ian’s face in both his hands and kept the kiss going. They finally had to break for air though, but Mickey kept Ian’s face close.

Ian was staring down into Mickey’s eyes and face, as if he was memorizing every feature.

“Did you mean what you said at the club,” Ian breathed. Mickey’s eyebrows came together as he tried to remember. “When you said if I was going to get on you?”

Mickey nodded. “If you want to…”

“Oh, I want to,” Ian said. “Um, you putting it that way, are you a bottom?”

Mickey nodded, but quickly added, “But I can do either, whatever you prefer…”

Ian nuzzled Mickey’s chin with his own. “I’ll do either too, but I like to top.” He kissed Mickey again.

After a few more minutes, Mickey broke away again. “Um, just one thing. I made a promise to my Big Brother a long time ago…We, uh, we do a lot of pro bono work for this organization that helps out HIV positive guys. Back in the day when they got diagnosed, it was a death sentence, you know? But then finally some medical progress was made and the cocktails started working. Anyways, a lot of those guys, when they got diagnosed, went a little nuts and ran up all kinds of debt they figured they’d wouldn’t be around long enough to have to pay back, and now here we are three decades later and they’re still trying to make ends meet and stuff. Well, anyway, there’s a little group of them that have sort of adopted me, especially this one guy, Jacky, and they made me promise, like swear on my mother’s grave, that I’d always get tested every year and I’d always ask my partners if they get tested and their status. So, I’m clean, got tested at my annual physical.”

Ian listened to everything Mickey was saying, taking it all seriously. He broke into a smile. “I’ve got a big brother who felt like a jerk for the way he first handled finding out I’m gay, and he’s always gone out of his way to keep me educated ever since. I get tested every year too, and always use a condom, and my status is negative.”

“Okay then,” Mickey smiled up at Ian. “Wanna see my bedroom?”

“Um, maybe one more thing first?” Ian said, wishing he’d just shut up and let this happen, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to open up and tell a person this before things got any further. “I…Mickey, I’m bipolar.” He gulped and just stared at Mickey.

Mickey thought for a couple of seconds and said, “Is that like, manic? One of our guys talks about being manic depressive and one of the other guys calls him bipolar when he talks about the guy.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, high highs and low lows, really low depression, when it strikes.”

“There’s medication for it?” Mickey said, thinking about Jacky’s friend.

“Yup, it’s usually pretty reliable at keeping me stable. Sometimes it needs to be adjusted, but I’ve been doing pretty well on it for a while,” Ian said. “But, you know, sometimes I get out of whack.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Mickey said.

“What, now?” Ian asked.

“Now, anytime, whenever,” Mickey said.

Ian smiled a small, shy, warm smile. “No thanks, nothing needs doing right now, but I’ll let you know if I ever think of anything.”

Mickey smiled back. “I’ll be glad to help.”

“How about you?” Ian said. “Any deep dark secrets you want to share?”

Mickey pulled a face. “That’s your deep dark secret-a disorder you had no control over getting, and that you’re taking care of?”

“Well, yeah,” Ian said. “It was a huge deal for me to tell you, usually I wait and get to know a person first, but then I always feel like I had been holding something back, you know? I wanted you to know now so we could, I don’t know, part ways if you thought it was too much?”

“Ian, wow, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have belittled it like that. Thank you for telling me, but it doesn’t change how attracted to you I am.”

Ian’s whole face lit up. He tilted his head a little and gave Mickey the big eyes. “So, anything you want to share with me? Everybody’s got at least one secret, Mick.”

“What if you don’t like me after hearing mine?” Mickey said.

“I can’t imagine that being the case, but, here you go. I’m willing to wait and have you tell me after, if you want, and if tonight turns out to be a onetime thing, at least we’ll always have the memory of it. How’s that?”

“You’ll really wait for me to tell you later?” Mickey said.

“Unless you’re a serial killer or something-that I’d rather know, well, that I would’ve rather known before you got me over here,” Ian said, smirking.

“Dork. Please don’t ever try that line on an actual serial killer,” Mickey said.

“Deal,” Ian said.

“So, uh, you wanna see my bedroom?” Mickey asked, cocking an eyebrow at Ian.

“Very much.” They got up off the couch and Mickey led the way to his room. It was small, a double bed and a tall chest of drawers pretty much filled it up, but it was clean, and, like the rest of the apartment, had a lot of Mickey’s drawings and sketches on the walls. Ian could tell some of them were probably early pieces of Mickey’s work, they were less polished than what he had on display out in the living room.

Once again, Ian didn’t have much time to examine the art. Mickey turned to face Ian and went in for a kiss, his mouth eager and exploring as soon as their lips met. Ian responded in kind, meeting fire with fire, and they were both panting after a moment.

“Clothes off,” Mickey said into Ian’s mouth and they broke apart enough to pull off their shirts. Ian’s took extra time because he had to unbutton the dress shirt he had worn to the club, but Mickey just had to pull off his long sleeved henley over his head.

“Nice ink,” Ian said admiringly. Mickey’s right deltoid was covered with a colorful bird, some sort of embellished falcon or hawk, the feathers not exactly how they would be found in nature. Then starting at the elbow and running down the underside of Mickey’s forearm there were words written in an elegant calligraphy. “What does this one say?” Ian said, trying to angle his head upside down to read it. Mickey lifted his arm and held it in front of his body so Ian could read it.

“It says ‘I remain unvanquished’,” Mickey said. “It’s a Scottish family motto, and I ain’t Scottish, but I thought it sounded cool.”

“It does,” Ian agreed. They kissed some more. Ian ran his hands up and down Mickey’s torso. Mickey was already half way in love how Ian’s touch was so gentle, yet arousing. He’d never experienced a touch like that before. Ian’s hands were massive, and warm, and soft too. Mickey knew he was in danger of being addicted already. He pulled Ian closer and ran his hands down his strong back. This guy was like a fucking Adonis.

Ian, for his part, couldn’t wait to kiss every inch of Mickey’s body. His skin was creamy white, his body was pliant but firm, and he smelled like the best thing Ian had ever had the enjoyment of smelling in his life. Ian reminded himself to check out what that cologne bottle under the sink was later.

Mickey reached for the button on Ian’s jeans, and Ian took the opportunity to cup Mickey over his pants. Mickey giggled and groaned all in one, and got Ian’s pants open. Once again they broke apart to pull of more clothes. Ian was left in his boxers and shoes and socks. Mickey had toed off his shoes first and was wearing black briefs and crew socks. Mickey sat on the edge of the bed to get his socks off while Ian bent down to get his shoes and socks off too, then he joined Mickey on the bed. They both scooted back so they were lying down the length of the bed, Mickey on his back, his head on his pillow, while Ian was on his side, back to kissing Mickey.

Mickey was very skilled at the open mouth kiss. He ran his hand through Ian’s hair at the back of his head, letting his fingers tickle and dance in the springy short curls. Ian’s hand was rubbing Mickey’s cock over the material of his boxers and Mickey brought his hand down from Ian’s hair and let it slide under the waistband of Ian’s boxers.

“Holy shit,” Mickey murmured into Ian’s mouth. “Is that all you?” He had to see, he broke the kiss.

Ian lifted his hips to help as Mickey pushed Ian’s boxers down. “I’m willing to bottom, remember?” Ian said softly. Some guys were just not into trying to take in what Ian had.

“No, Ian, god, it’s beautiful, I want you to…” Mickey babbled, his mouth finding Ian’s again. Mickey stroked his hand up and down Ian’s hardening cock as he kissed him. It felt like velvet over steel. Mickey’s own dick twitched in interest. This was going to be good.

Ian was pushing Mickey’s briefs down now, loving the feel of Mickey’s thick, strong thighs under his palms. The briefs got low enough that Mickey could kick them off, and Ian got his boxers all the way off too.

“Ah, geez,” Ian said, rolling over to snag his pants of the floor. He dug out his wallet and pulled out a condom. Mickey laughed.

“Lube’s in the drawer next to the bed,” Mickey said. Ian pulled open the drawer and took out the tube. Ian slicked up his fingers and went back to kissing Mickey, and after a moment, gently slid his index finger in. Mickey moaned into Ian’s mouth, that gentle touch was going to be his undoing, and he couldn’t wait.

Ian took his time prepping Mickey, kissing him and nipping him all over his head, neck, and chest the entire time. Mickey was tugging Ian’s hair and extolling him all the while, and when he deemed himself close enough, he gave Ian’s cock a few firm strokes and then broke their kiss to roll over and get up on his knees. Ian couldn’t believe his eyes, Mickey had the most perfect ass he had ever seen.

“Oh, Mickey,” he breathed out. He quickly wiped the lube off his fingers on the top bed sheet and then placed both his hands on each of Mickey’s cheeks. He squeezed gently, he stroked them with his thumbs, he watched in rapt fascination as they moved under his hands while Mickey adjusted his position.

“Ready when you are,” Mickey grinned over his shoulder at Ian. Ian leaned forward and kissed him, letting his hands slide down Mickey’s thighs as his body moved over Mickey’s. Ian got the condom open and rolled it on, and then lubed it up. He placed one hand at the small of Mickey’s back and put the other hand on the base of his cock to guide it into Mickey. He went in slowly, Mickey murmuring sounds of approval all along the way. Ian couldn’t believe how Mickey’s ass could take all of him so easily. Ian stilled when his balls were against Mickey. Mickey was breathing slow and evenly, his eyes shut tight as he melded around Ian inside him. “Okay, you can move,” he said after a moment.

Ian began rocking his hips gently, but soon Mickey was pulling when he was pushing and their rhythm picked up. Ian was running his hand up and down Mickey’s back and Mickey was moaning his approval. Ian hit Mickey’s prostate, and Mickey almost splayed out flat under him, he was feeling so good. Ian kept hitting the spot, and finally Mickey let his elbows drop to hit the bed, and the change in angle made everything even better.

“Fuck, Ian, yeah, go deeper, go deeper, right there, oh fuck, oh so good,” Mickey was panting.

Ian was feeling Mickey’s strong muscles around him, and was enjoying the heat he was driving into. He wrapped his arm around Mickey and started stroking his cock in time to his thrusts. Mickey was close and so was Ian. Ian added some oomph to his thrusts, reassured by Mickey that’s what he wanted, and as he continued to hit Mickey’s prostate, Mickey came, hard, harder than he could ever remember. His muscles clenching so tightly around Ian drove Ian over the edge right behind him. Ian pumped into Mickey as he came, trying to be mindful that Mickey’s prostate might be oversensitive now, but not too sure if he was able to stop pressing against it.

Ian carefully pulled out when he was done and got the condom off without spilling anything out of it. He tied it off and noticed a waste basket near the bedroom door and tossed the condom in it from the bed.

He looked at Mickey, who still had his ass up in the air. “You good?” Ian asked.

“You’re great,” Mickey said into the pillow with a smile. Ian barked out a laugh. He lay down on his back next to Mickey, and Mickey flipped himself over so he could lie on his back too and give his dick a break. They just stared at each other, smiling.

After a minute Mickey asked, “You need anything? Drink of water, or do you want to take a shower?”

“I’m okay,” Ian said. “You, um, you gonna tell me about that secret now?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes a bit. “You really want me to ruin the afterglow?”

Ian looked surprised. “Is it that bad?”

Mickey just shrugged. “I guess that’ll be up to you to decide.” He groaned and pulled himself up into a sitting position against the headboard. He turned on a lamp on his bedside table and then reached up and flicked a switch, shutting off the overhead light he had turned on when they first entered the room. The lower light made everything more intimate. Mickey reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled up a faded patchwork quilt they had kicked down to the end during their recent activities.

“Might as well be warm, right?” he said to Ian. Ian nodded and pulled himself up to a sitting position also. “Okay,” Mickey sighed. “Um, for the longest time, I was in the closet, you know? Grew up South Side, had a homophobic dad, all his brothers and friends were homophobes, you know?” Ian nodded. “I mean, I was deep in the closet, and my closet was buried in one of those missile silos in Nebraska, miles underground, right? So, anyways, as soon as I was old enough-well, actually, way before I was old enough, my old man started taking me out on his runs when he’d deal drugs and weapons and, if you’ll pardon the expression, fag bash.” Mickey felt Ian tense up a little next to him, but he wasn’t looking at Ian while he spoke, he was looking at the letters on the back of his knuckles.

“I, uh, had to go along to get along, you know? Not that that’s any excuse, I knew it was wrong while I was doing it, but I also didn’t know how not to do it without my dad killing me himself. But when I…beat guys up, I was the worst. I totally overcompensated just in case anyone got an inkling I was just like the guys we were beating up.”

“Mickey…” Ian tried to say.

“No, that’s not even the secret part yet, okay? Just…let me say it all, then you can talk. So, uh, even though I was doing that shit and I was terrified of my old man, I also, you know, wanted…anyway, when I was sixteen, my dad and uncles were all going to be away for a few days on a run to Michigan. My sister was staying at an aunt’s house nearby, and my brothers went with my old man-the ones that weren’t in jail did, at least. I got to stay home because I was still in high school and had finals. Since I had the place to myself, I brought a guy home. I hadn’t planned it, I just went to a convenience store to get some smokes and sort of wound up getting picked up. Since he lived in a dorm with a roommate and I had the house to myself, we went to my place. We didn’t even make it past the front room when we were naked and he was in me, and then…my dad walked in.”

Ian tensed up even more. He knew this was going to be bad.

“Uh, he ripped the guy off me and threw him into a wall, and then he pistol whipped me and I blacked out. I woke up in a hospital bed, my sister and aunt watching me, Mandy-my sister-crying her eyes out. My dad…” Mickey cleared his throat, “my dad had killed the guy I brought home.”

Ian’s eyes got huge. “He…shot him, point blank, because of me.” Ian shook his head, but Mickey had more to tell and wasn’t going to stop to argue that point with Ian.

“Well, it turned out the guy was twenty-one, and since I was sixteen my dad’s court appointed attorney got him a deal where he plead guilty to second degree murder for a reduced sentence. The murder wasn’t premeditated and the DA’s office knew it’d be hard to get a jury to throw the book at a father for killing a statutory rapist, so my old man got off pretty easy. Twelve years, for murdering a guy who was just…” Mickey shrugged helplessly.

“So, I was sixteen, I dropped out of high school, and just started doing the stupidest shit ever, and of course I got caught. But the judge knew about what had happened, and instead of sending me back to juvie –where, let’s face it, someone would’ve probably finished the job for my old man, I was kind of notorious at that point even though my name had been kept out of official records, but everyone in the neighborhood knew what my old man had done and now knew his son was a queer-where was I?” This story was hard for Mickey to tell, he was getting lost in the upsetting details he was remembering.

“The judge,” Ian said softly.

“Oh yeah, the judge told me he knew about this man from the Big Brother program. His last little brother had moved away, and even though I was a bit old for the program, this dude was willing to take me on as his little brother but one more screw up and I’d be in juvie. His name is Lee Harris and he saved my life,” Mickey said.

“I’m glad,” Ian said, catching Mickey’s eye for a brief second, and they both smiled.

“Yeah, so, he got me on a better path, and I swore off dudes for a while-a couple years, actually. The first time I tried to even get a hand job from a guy I freaked the fuck out. Lee talked me into seeing a therapist, but, you know, free clinics and Obama-care doctors aren’t exactly the best.”

Ian nodded, he had a lot of experience with that himself.

“So, I quit going after a while, once I could get it up without seeing my old man with a gun in his hand, to tell you the truth. I, uh, still had a lot of guilt though, and I sort of sought out rough trade-guys who wouldn’t treat me good, you know? I felt like I shouldn’t be having a good time when the only guy I ever brought home was lying in a grave somewhere.”

“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian said. Mickey shook his head.

“I’m almost to the end, okay? Let me just get this out. I’m just…I stopped that too-Lee and Jacky and some of the other gay guys Jacky knows sat me down and did one of those intervention things. I mean, Lee’s not gay, he’s got a wife, but, yeah, all the other guys, they figured it out before Lee did. He thought I was just getting in fights, not that it was the men I was…Anyway. Um. Shit. I guess what I want you to know is, I’m not good boyfriend material. I, uh, I don’t let anyone beat me up anymore, but with nice guys? I…get antsy, or something. I start to figure it’s just a matter of time before they’ll dump me, so I mouth off or quit coming around or whatever and ruin it, you know?” Mickey finally looked at Ian.

Ian’s forehead was wrinkled with concern. He put one of his hands over Mickeys’, which Mickey had resting folded on his stomach, and with his other hand, Ian gently ran his finger down the side of Mickey’s face. “I’m sorry all of that-except meeting Lee and your friends-happened to you,” he said quietly.

“I, uh, I’ve never told anyone all that before, I mean, no one that I’ve had sex with. Those guys and my sister and my therapist know, but…” Mickey just trailed off.

Ian stopped stroking Mickey’s face and cupped his hand so it was lightly holding Mickey’s jaw.

“I’ve never told anyone I was bipolar before I had sex with them either. Usually I wait to see if it’s more than a one night stand,” Ian said.

“Why did you tell me first?” Mickey said, looking into his eyes.

“I think it’s because I want this to be something different than I’ve ever done before, and I felt I should be honest with you from the start, so it’s not a surprise later, I guess?” Ian said, looking down and wondering if he was saying too much. Maybe all Mickey was looking for was a quick fuck, or a fuck buddy, and now Ian had scared him off.

Mickey took a deep breath. “Look, I know we just met and we’re not going steady or anything, but, I felt the same thing too, about wanting this to be different-I’m wishing I had told you my thing before so you could’ve left then…”

“Why would I have wanted to leave hearing that? None of it was your fault, and you’ve worked to get past it,” Ian interrupted.

Mickey finally relaxed a little and smiled at Ian. “No one’s ever painted me something before.”

Ian smiled back. “I’ve never specifically painted something meant for someone before.”

“It was sweet,” Mickey said. “I like it sweet.”

Ian blushed and then leaned over to kiss Mickey, chastely, just a quick peck on the lips. “I guess I should get going,” Ian said reluctantly.

“Do you have to?” Mickey said quickly. “I mean, you’re more than welcome to stay, if you want. It’s kind of late…”

Ian raised his eyebrows, thinking. “I mean, I’ve got school in the morning, but I could run home before class and get my stuff…”

“What time would you have to leave?” Mickey said.

“If I left here by eight I’d have plenty of time to go home and shower and get to class,” Ian calculated.

“I have to be to work for nine, so if you don’t mind getting up around seven-thirty, I could take you to breakfast,” Mickey offered. “There’s a great place nearby. It looks like a shithole, but they have great food.”

“Sounds perfect,” Ian smiled. “Um, think I could borrow some fresh underwear to sleep in? I, uh, I’m feeling a little sensitive down there.”

“Boxers or briefs?” Mickey said, already throwing the quilt off and getting out of bed.

“Boxers,” Ian laughed, getting up to join Mickey.

“And, do you want a shower, or a drink?” Mickey offered again.

“Um, if you don’t mind, I really should get to sleep. I try to adhere to a schedule, it helps keep me even, you know?”

“Of course, of course,” Mickey said, digging out boxers for Ian and himself. He gave Ian a pair of striped ones, and picked plaid ones for himself. He put them on quickly and then went over to the bed and pulled the quilt off and bunched up the top sheet that they had just had sex on. He felt the fitted sheet, but it seemed fine, so he stuffed the sheet in his hand into a hamper in the corner of the room and opened his closet and took down a clean sheet from the shelf.

Ian stood off to the side, a bemused look on his face. “What are you doing?”

“I jizzed all over that sheet, man, wanted to get a clean one for sleeping. I think the bottom sheet’s okay though, but if you feel a wet spot, tell me?” Mickey sounded truly concerned. Ian walked over to him and kissed him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Let me help you with that.” With Ian’s long arms, remaking the bed was quick work. They put on the sheet and the quilt and got back under the covers again.

“Well, good night,” Mickey said, kissing Ian softly.

“Good night, Mickey.”

 

The next morning they were up bright and early to go out to breakfast. Neither one of them would’ve minded a morning quickie, but they both had a lot to do during the day and wearing themselves out wasn’t a good idea. Mickey had slept surprisingly well considering he always slept alone for the past several years, even when he’d be sort of seeing someone, he’d never stay with them all night. He hoped Ian had gotten a good night’s sleep too.

Mickey let Ian use the shower first. Again, both of them would’ve loved to have the other join him, but that would’ve led to distractions.

Ian offered to drive them to breakfast, but Mickey said it’d be easier and faster just to walk than to try to find parking anywhere. He hadn’t been kidding about the place looking like a shithole, it was just some hole in the wall crammed in between a liquor store and a check cashing place. But inside it was clean and warm, and the smell of coffee and good food made up for the lack of décor, which was basically some faded dusty plastic flowers on the middle of the six tables that made up the place.

“Mornin’, Gladys,” Mickey said with a wave as he took off his jacket and motioned Ian into a seat.

“Mr. Milkovich,” the one waitress in the place responded with a nod. She looked to be in her late fifties or maybe early sixties, Ian guessed. She put down a plate in front of a customer then went behind the counter to retrieve the coffee pot. She came over to their table and Mickey flipped over the thick ceramic mug that was already at his place and she poured coffee into it.

“Coffee for you, hon?” she asked Ian, when he didn’t flip his cup over also.

“Do you have any herb tea? Caffeine free?” he asked, feeling like a pretentious jerk. This place undoubtedly started out selling coffee during The Depression and tea was for pussies.

“We have chamomile, and I also have my own personal stash of lemongrass and lavender-would you like to try that? It’s good,” the waitress said, delighted someone was asking for tea for a change.

“Uh, yeah, that does sound good, but I don’t want to drink your own personal…”

“Oh, shush-if I didn’t want you to have it, I wouldn’t have offered,” she scooted off to get the tea. She put a teabag in a mug at the counter and got hot water out of a big urn with a spigot that was permanently set up behind their. She brought the mug over to Ian and sat it down in front of him.

“Give it a minute to cool off,” she warned.

“Can we get a menu, please, Gladys?” Mickey asked. “I’ll be having my usual, but Ian here’s a newbie.”

“Of course,” the waitress said, zipping off behind the counter again.

Ian leaned over the table to ask Mickey quietly, “Why does her nametag say Sharon if her name is Gladys?” Suddenly a plastic-encased menu was slapped down in front of him.

“Because my name ain’t Gladys, it’s Sharon, but Mickey here likes to pretend he’s living in a gangster movie from the Thirties and insists on calling me ‘Gladys’,” Sharon said.

“I’m telling ya, Sharon ain’t no name for a diner waitress,” Mickey said, eyes twinkling. “You’d quadruple your tips if your name tag said Gladys.”

Sharon just rolled her eyes at him.

“Gladys, this here is Ian,” Mickey said.

The waitress finally stopped long enough to take a good look at her new customer. “Well, hello,” she said in a warm voice. “Certainly haven’t seen you around here before, but then, Mickey’s never brought anyone in here before.” Ian had to be one of the most handsome young men she had ever seen in her life. After his shower that morning, not having any hair product with him, he had left his hair as wet as possible and just slicked it down the best he could. He was just praying that he’d get home before all his curls sprung up into an unruly mess-actually, as long as he was in his car driving away from Mickey when that happened, that’s all he asked. He didn’t give a shit how he looked for school, but he wanted to look good for Mickey.

Right now the hair was staying put, and the way he had combed it in combination with his big eyes and freckles made him look clean cut and, Sharon couldn’t think of any other word for it, sweet. She had long wondered about her favorite grumpy customer. Mickey was a slow waker usually, and would come into the place cranky and grumbling till he got his first coffee and his belly filled, and then he was just a sweetheart always saying some little thing to make her laugh or smile, and keeping an eye on customers that might be rude or short with her. A glare from those Paul Newman eyes of his was usually all it took to keep outsiders in line.

Right now those baby blues were looking at this redheaded young man he had brought in with him and shining softly. Sharon hoped what she was thinking was happening, was happening.

“Need a moment to look at the menu, Ian?” Sharon asked. Ian had to tear his own eyes away from Mickey to think about what she had asked.

“Hmm? Oh, uh, well,” he looked to Mickey, “what’s good?”

“I usually get scrambled eggs, an English muffin with peanut butter and jelly, and some bacon during the week, and on Sundays I get pancakes,” Mickey rattled off.

“Oh,” Ian blinked, but then he realized how hungry he was. Last night’s supper was a dim memory and he and Mickey certainly burned some calories last night. “I’ll have what he’s having,” Ian said to Sharon, handing back the menu.

“You forgot to tell him you get OJ too,” Sharon said. “You want a glass too? Or we have grapefruit, cranberry…”

“OJ’s fine,” Ian said.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, jotting something down on her pad to go hang on the order wheel.

Ian and Mickey looked across the table at each other and smiled. Their toes were touching under the table, and Ian moved his feet so they were on either side of Mickey’s and he pushed the sides of his feet towards each other to trap Mickey’s feet there.

Mickey took a sip of his coffee, looking at Ian over the rim.

“You gonna try the tea?” Mickey asked, placing his coffee mug back on the table. Ian’s hand was resting by his mug with the tea in it, and Mickey put his hand near it and let his pinky stroke Ian’s. Ian grinned and intertwined their pinkies, picking up the mug with his other hand and taking a sip.

“Wow, this is actually really good,” Ian said.

Sharon showed up just then with their orange juice. “Glad you like it,” she beamed, then took off again.

“So, not a coffee drinker?” Mickey asked, mainly just to have something to say.

“Oh, I love coffee, it’s just not a good idea to have caffeine with my meds. I try to avoid it all together, or limit it to one caffeinated drink when I need to stay up later, like last night. I knew I might be out past midnight with my buddy Luis.”

Mickey made a face. “Does he know you need sleep, a routine?”

“Oh yeah, he knows all about that stuff-but he usually works weekends, so we have to get together to see each other on weeknights, when we can. We only ever seem to manage to hang out once every few weeks or so,” Ian said, liking it that Mickey seemed concerned.

“How about when you go paint?” Mickey asked. “Do you let yourself have some coffee or whatever for that?”

Ian shook his head smiling. “I get a nap in after school,” he said with a laugh. “Isn’t that the most badass thing you ever heard? When I was a KID I never took naps, but look at me now!” He spread his hands wide so Mickey could take him all in.

“Whatever works, right?” Mickey said. “And, actually, most days I’d kill for a nap. Little fucking toddlers don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

Sharon was back again, placing their plates in front of them.

“You guys need anything else? Ketchup, more tabasco (she knew Mickey used a lot of it on his eggs), refill on the drinks?” They assured her they were all set and she left them to it.

Ian took a bite of the eggs and moaned.

“Right?” Mickey said. They were perfect-fluffy and not dry and not runny. All the food was great. They made quick work of their breakfasts. Ian fished a little plastic box out of his pocket and popped some pills into his mouth.

“It’s best if I take them with food,” he explained.

Mickey wished they could linger, but he had to get on the El and get to work, and Ian had to get on with his day.

“So, you’re off to school, huh?” Mickey said. “Is that an all-day thing?”

“Naw, just the morning, then I go to work at my sister’s diner till six.”

“What do you do there?”

“The dishes,” Ian said with a laugh. “And, yeah, it makes no sense she lets me go right during the dinner rush, but she’s a stickler about me having enough hours to get my homework done and sleep and eat and all that stuff.”

“Where’s the diner?” Mickey asked, just trying to keep the conversation going for another minute.

“It’s over near our house-Back Of The Yards.”

Mickey smiled, “No shit? You’re South Side too?”

Ian nodded. “House is on North Wallace.”

“So, you busy tonight?” Mickey asked. He sucked at this part.

Ian considered. “Well, I’ll need to do some homework…”

“Do you need anything specific for that? A computer, or the library or some shit?”

Ian grinned. “Just my laptop and books, which I can bring anywhere in my backpack.”

“I can work on work stuff from home on a laptop too-you wanna come over? I can fix us some dinner and then I’ll leave you alone to work,” Mickey said.

“Mickey, you don’t have to make me dinner.”

“Why not? I gotta eat too, just as easy to cook for two…uh, what do you like? Spaghetti? Pizza roll ups?” Mickey couldn’t believe that was the sum of his culinary abilities. He could make pancakes, but breakfast for supper was more of a winter time thing with him. So was soup.

“Spaghetti’s great,” Ian said, “Or I could get a pizza on the way over…”

“Naw, let’s do spaghetti,” Mickey said.

Sharon brought over their check and put a couple of wrapped tea bags down on the table in front of Ian. For a second both men thought they were condoms.

“In case you want some more later,” Sharon said with a wink. “You can always come back here to have some too. Back in the day, I had to go downtown to an organic food store or a head shop to get this type of stuff, but now every supermarket has it in stock. That Yogi company makes other types too, you should try them out.”

“Thanks, Sharon,” Ian said with a smile. She winked and walked off.

Mickey was smiling at Ian. “I bet that happens to you all the time-women giving you free stuff.”

Ian just blushed.

After work that night, Mickey was pouring salad out of a bag into two bowls. He had stopped at the grocery story on his way home and grabbed the salad and about four kinds of salad dressing since he didn’t know what Ian would like and a loaf of heat and eat garlic bread and a jar of Ragu just in case whatever he had at home was too old.

Mickeys’ phone rang, he groaned when he saw who the caller was.

“You better not be in town, bitch, I got no room at the inn to put you up,” he told his sister, without even saying hello.

“That’s a nice greeting-and since when don’t you have room for me?” Mandy yelled.

“Oh, Christ, you ARE in town?” Mickey moaned.

“As a matter of fact I’m not, dickbreath. But what the fuck’s going on? Did you get evicted?”

“No, Mandy, I didn’t get evicted. Jesus. I, uh, I happened to have invited someone over for dinner…”

“So?” Mandy interrupted.

“And SO, he stayed last night, and I’m hoping he’ll do the same tonight.”

Mandy literally dropped her phone. She had to scramble to get it off the floor.

“Mickey, are you saying what I think you’re saying? You finally christened that double bed of yours?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey drawled.

“I’m trying to determine if you did!” Mandy yelled. Mickey held the phone away from his ear. “Mickey, seriously, I want to know: did you finally allow a man to come over to where you actually live, and then you let him sleep over?”

“Mandy, why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Mickey asked, getting truly irritated.

“Because it’s unprecedented, shithead! This guy must be something else.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of being alone,” Mickey said.

“Well, duh, but he’s gotta be special too. When did you meet him?”

“A couple days ago. Mandy, don’t yell again.” Mickey could hear her deep intake of breath through the phone.

“I want to know everything!” she demanded.

“I don’t know everything, all right? He’s, uh, he does street art, that’s how we stumbled across each other, he’s South Side, he goes to college, he’s a year younger than me…” Mickey couldn’t remember much more.

“He’s gorgeous, he’s got a great dick, come on, Mickey! Tell me that stuff!”

“He’s tall, has red hair, his dick is pretty great,” Mickey said with a smile.

Mandy squealed happily. “Name?”

“Ian.”

“Ian who?”

“Mandy, let me have this for a little bit, okay?”

“Why? Do I know him?”

“I don’t think so, but, look, I barely know him. Let me find out about him before you go hunting him down on facebook or whatever the fuck you and the girl mafia do.”

That night he and Ian enjoyed Mickey’s home cooked meal (Ian went for the Italian salad dressing, that was Mickey’s favorite too), and then worked in a companionable silence side by side on the couch, the only sound was their fingers tapping away on their keyboards. Ian had taken another round of his pills with his dinner and Mickey had every intention of sending Ian home to a good night’s sleep, but when Ian shut his laptop and the suggestion was on the tip of Mickey’s tongue, Ian stretched and arched his back just so, and the next thing Mickey knew they were in his bed again and he was seeing stars, or maybe god.

After, they were lying in each other’s arms, the soft light from Mickey’s bedside lamp the only light in the room. Mickey was carding his fingers through Ian’s hair, which had wound up in its naturally curly state for the day since Ian never got a chance between school, work, and Mickey’s to wash it again. It wasn’t even so much curly as it was thick and fell into perfect waves. Mickey loved how it looked without hair product forcing it to be straighter. Ian was self-conscious about it still though, after a childhood filled with Ronald McDonald and Little Orphan Annie taunts.

“I’d kill to have a can, just one, of this shade of red,” Mickey said.

Ian was on his back, staring into Mickey’s eyes as Mickey was staring at his hair.

“I thought the same thing about your eyes this morning in the sunlight,” Ian said.

“And the green in yours…” Mickey added.

“Are you saying we’re like a couple of works of art?” Ian smiled, nuzzling against Mickey.

“Fucking A,” Mickey confirmed.

A few days later Mickey was walking to his local grocery store to see if they had that tea Gladys had given Ian and on the wall of an alley he had to walk right past he saw a painting of three spray paint cans, one green, one blue, one red, and they spelled out “ART”. He smiled and took a photo that he sent to Ian and then texted, “Yours?” Ian texted back, “Ours.” Then after a minute Ian texted, “You like?” and Mickey turned around and walked back to the wall and took a selfie with his thumb up and a big smile on his face and sent it to Ian.

They quickly fell into a routine where they’d spend their days apart, but invariably end up at Mickey’s in the evenings. Not quite every night, that’s how Ian was able to sneak out and paint the mural near Mickey’s grocery place-Ian had cleverly deduced where Mickey shopped when he saw the store’s logo on the bag of salad dressing choices Mickey had offered him.

Some nights Ian would go home after they had sex, but most nights he was staying over. Mickey asked him to stay every time, and some nights Ian left with great reluctance, but he was afraid of overstaying his welcome. And the night after his monthly therapy session he was feeling vulnerable and raw. The physical intimacy felt good and right, but after he wanted some space to think before he could fall asleep for the night, so he excused himself and went home. He didn’t tell Mickey where he’d been that afternoon, but he had told his therapist about meeting Mickey and how things were going. He didn’t tell her Mickey’s story from the first night they had stayed together yet, but he knew he’d discuss it with her eventually. Ian already couldn’t remember what his life was like before Mickey was in it, and he didn’t want to think about having to go back to that life, but his therapist encouraged him to try to keep some space for himself.

Ian tried, he really did, and thought maybe if he just stayed every other night, he wouldn’t be falling so hard, but that was too hard to stick to and he shot for only staying two out of three nights, but that didn’t work and he was more like a four out of five or six out of seven kind of guy.

One night after they decided Ian might as well stay the night again, they were side by side talking quietly in the dark. Mickey was doing one of his favorite things, tracing his fingers over Ian’s abs.

“Hey, Mickey, can I ask you about that piece above your headboard.?”

Mickey stiffened a little, his hand stopping right where it was mid-trace. He knew Ian had to be referring to a piece of cardboard he had cut from the side of a box and had written “Fuck Love” in black magic marker when he was a teenager. It had gone with him from his home bedroom to here, and since no one but Mandy and his brother Iggy had ever seen his room in either place, he had sort of forgotten it.

“You noticed that, huh?” he said.

“I’ve had the pleasure to look at it two nights in a row, it’s the view I see right over the top of your head when I’m behind you,” Ian giggled.

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one to have seen it from that angle,” Mickey yawned.

Now Ian got really still. “Really?” he whispered. Every so often Mickey would let something drop that told Ian just how far he had let Ian in compared to anyone else.

“Yeah, well, so, back when I was fourteen and Mandy-my sister-was thirteen, she’d come home every other day in love with this guy or that guy, you know?” Ian nodded, he had sisters too.

“Christ, I can’t believe I’m gonna tell you this,” Mickey said, running his hand over his face. “So, not surprisingly, I never talked about having crushes on anyone, but one day she comes home on cloud nine and tells me the guy I was crushing on had asked her to the spring formal and told her that he thought he was falling in love with her.”

“Ouch,” Ian said, imagining how hard that must have been to hear. “Was he your first crush?”

“Yeah,” Mickey sighed. “I thought he was the shit, you know? Tall, blond, could talk to anybody, all the teachers and parents loved him.”

“Did he wind up taking Mandy to the dance?”

“Yeah, he kissed her good night and everything,” Mickey said, remembering. “I spent the night of the dance cutting out that cardboard with a dull knife and tracing the letters and filling them in.”

“Aw,” Ian sympathized. “Did they wind up dating?”

“Yeah, for like a week, then Mandy had moved on to the next crush. She always was fickle,” he laughed.

“And you’ve never gotten over him,” Ian sighed.

“What? Fuck no. When Mandy got the picture the guy’s mom shelled out twenty dollars for from the formal, I noticed what a dweeb he was. He had a pizza face and pinched nose and no shoulders.” Mickey was laughing.

“You’re exaggerating,” Ian insisted.

“No, I’m really not. I can’t imagine what Mandy or I saw in him.”

“His great personality?” Ian suggested.

“Dude was a total kiss ass! That’s the only reason adults liked him! It was just a temporary madness,” Mickey said.

“Why did you keep the sign then?” Ian said.

“Well, the message kept applying, unfortunately,” Mickey said. “It sort of became my motto. That’s almost what got tattooed on my arm, but Lee made me look up battle cries instead.”

Ian chuckled. “Remind me to thank Lee someday,” he said, yawning.

“Oh, shit, yeah, let’s get some sleep, yeah?” Mickey said, pulling the quilt up to their chins.

Ian turned a little and kissed the side of Mickey’s face. “Fuck love,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Mickey breathed, kissing him back.

A few days later, Ian texted Mickey to meet him at his school, if he wanted. He was working on a paper in the library and figured they could grab a bite to eat and see a movie when he was done. After they did those fun things, Ian brought him to the underground parking garage where he always parked his car when he was at school and talked Mickey into getting into the back seat with him so he could give him a blow job. Ian loved giving Mickey blow jobs, and getting blow jobs from him. Mickey loved giving and receiving blow jobs from Ian. It was nice how that worked out for them.

Mickey was slightly nervous about doing it in a fairly public place, but Ian just laughed.

“No one is ever down here but students, I don’t think they’ll notice but even if they did, they wouldn’t give a shit,” Ian explained.

“What about security cameras?” Mickey asked.

“Mickey, this is a state school in a shitty neighborhood, there are no security cameras.”

Mickey relaxed and let Ian’s talented tongue take him away from his worries.

A couple days later Ian parked in the school's garage again.  He got his book bag out and locked up the car, and walked out to get to his classes.  The garage was pretty full and he had been lucky to get a spot.  He stayed late at school again that day to use reference books that couldn't be checked out of the library.  This time he was meeting Mickey at his apartment whenever he got done, instead of Mickey coming to meet him. 

When he returned to the garage in the early evening, almost all the cars were gone, and now he could easily see the walls, including one that had some art that hadn't been there before.  Ian grinned and walked over to get a better look.  On the wall he saw the words "fuck love" in black but the love was crossed out with a big red slash and the word "me" had been painted under the slash, also in red.  Ian raised his eyebrows at the color choices that just happened to match his and Mickey’s hair and chuckled.  He took out his phone and snapped a picture of it, then scurried to Mickey's to do as the mural had instructed. 

Ian and Mickey spent a pleasant summer getting to know each other better and better and they spent most of their free time together.  They still went out and painted their art on separate missions, but they shared ideas and dreams of what and where they'd like to paint, and they discussed art they saw everywhere, speculating on who might have made things neither of them had done, and going to museums and galleries to look and be inspired-or to share what they didn't like about some pieces and the reasons why. 

Ian marveled that Mickey had never had a steady boyfriend before, he seemed like the perfect companion to him.  Mickey felt the same way about Ian, but chalked it up to he hadn't been ready before he met Mickey, just like Mickey hadn't been ready before he found Ian.  Plus it was incredible to find anyone with the list of compatible traits they both brought to the relationship-they were both South Side born and raised, both had their artistic side, both liked the same amount and intensity of sex...

At the end of the summer Mickey decided it was time for Ian to meet some of his family.  He wasn’t quite ready to expose Ian to Mandy yet, and luckily her job had kept her busy and out of town these months Ian had been with Mickey.  Mickey figured it'll be safer and easier to let Ian meet Lee first, and the day he invited Ian to the office, Jacky just happened to be there.  He dropped in unannounced, as was his wont, and when he heard the man who had been keeping that smile on Mickey's face was coming in there was no way Jacky was leaving. 

  
"Cher and Lady Gaga could be at the Bean doing an impromptu free concert and I would not leave this place," Jacky intoned, doing his best Ian McKellen voice. 

When Ian arrived, Mickey introduced him to Lee first, who shook hands with Ian, and then Jacky, who pulled Ian into a big hug, held him out at arm's length, then hugged him again, squeezing pretty tightly.

"Jacky, for Christ's sake, let him breathe!" Mickey growled.  Jacky let Ian out of his grasp, but still held him in front of him by the elbows to look him over. 

"So handsome, no wonder Mickey walks on air these days," Jacky said.  Ian slid his eyes sideways to look at Mickey, but Mickey was just smiling and blushing.  Ian broke into a big smile himself. 

"You look so familiar," Jacky continued.  "Where do I know you from?"  He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers.  "The Fairy Tail, right?  You used to dance there?"

Mickey had started to shake his head no, but then heard Ian answer, "That's right-a few years ago now." 

Mickey was shocked.  Before he could think what he was saying he blurted out, "I thought all the guys who worked there were prostitutes." 

"Urban legend," Ian and Jacky said at the exact same time. 

Jacky laughed at Ian and said, "Jinx, buy me a Coke!  Aw, you're probably too young to know that one."

Lee laughed now.  "Jacky's always acting like he's some ancient who was at the premiere of The Wizard of Oz.  You're only in your fifties, Jack, calm down."

Ian said he did know about jinxing and Cokes and agreed he owed Jacky one, and he and Jacky were hitting it off great.

"Mickey, no one at The Fairy Tail turns tricks, there's no point.  You get a couple hundred guys showing up on any given night, all wanting the same thing.  They don't have to pay for it, they find plenty of willing participants to hook up with for free," Ian explained. 

"Even the old fucks?" Mickey muttered darkly.

"Hey!" Jacky said, affronted.  "That's what expensive gifts and party favors are for-Ian's right, Mickey, even the 'old fucks' didn't have to bother the working boys.  It'd be too awkward to try to pay one of them for sex and then have to face them every time you went in there-or to have to share him with other patrons, which would be worse."   

Jacky was delighted he could come up with Ian’s “stage name” of Curtis out of the depths of his memory, and they started reminiscing about wild nights at the club and mutual acquaintances.

They hadn't even noticed Mickey had left the office for a few minutes while they talked about the old days at the Tail.  Ian was telling Lee and Jacky how Mickey had tracked him down there and looked around to see if Mickey wanted to add anything, and then he noticed Mickey was gone. 

"Probably went to grab a smoke in the back alley," Lee told Ian.  "He does that sometimes.  There's a hallway to the back right outside the office here, why don't you go see if you can find him?"  Jacky nodded at this advice, and Ian left the office too. 

"Nice guy," Lee said.  "I like him."

"Nice?  Lee, you have all the romance of a discount coupon book," Jacky sighed.  "That boy is gorgeous, sweet, and loving.  Did you see the look of concern on his face when his other half went missing?"  Lee was used to Jacky's dramatic ways, but he also had eyes and knew his Mickey well.

"Of course I saw it-I'm the one that told him to go find Mickey, aren't I?" 

"You are," Jacky conceded.  "Maybe for a straight dude, you're not utterly hopeless." 

Ian found Mickey in the back alley, smoking furiously. 

"You okay?" Ian asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"Just sort of blindsided, is all," Mickey said, not meeting Ian's eyes.  "You could've let me know you worked as a dancer." 

Ian waited a moment, but Mickey didn't seem to be about to say anything else.  "It was a long time ago, Mick, I was seventeen, eighteen?  It was before I was diagnosed, and once I was and started on the meds, I quit working there, started going to school part time, working at the diner." 

"But...that place," Mickey sighed.   

"What about it?" Ian asked, getting a bit defensive.  "Mickey, I'm telling you, I didn't turn tricks there-or anywhere else."

"Bet you still got with a lot of guys," Mickey mumbled darkly.

"Well...yeah.  I was a horny gay teenager surrounded by gay guys.  Do you think I was some sort of slut?" Ian asked, more hurt than mad now.

"What?  No, of course not!  And I know I can't be jealous of guys you met before me, but I can't help it, I just am.  I hate that Jacky saw you first, and that other guys knew you back when...'

"Mickey, you're not making sense.  Jacky may have seen me dancing, but that's all he did, that's all the majority of guys in my past did-they just...saw me," Ian tried to explain.  "I'm with you now, only you, and you're the only one I want to be with."

Mickey flung his cigarette down the alley and reached out and grabbed Ian and pulled him flush up against him.  Ian thought Mickey was going to kiss him, but Mickey attached his lips to Ian's neck at his pulse point and began sucking, hard.  Ian wrapped his hands around Mickey's waist and Mickey even bit him, then lapped the spot and began sucking on it again.

"Are you...are you marking me?" Ian breathed out, tilting his head to let Mickey get at his neck more easily.  Mickey had never left any bruises or marks on Ian where they could be seen before.  "This is already yours," Ian added, grabbing one of Mickey's hands and putting it over his heart. 

Mickey raised his head so he could kiss Ian's lips.  Then Mickey cupped Ian through his jeans.  "I want to claim this too," Mickey said in a ragged, sexy whisper.

Ian leaned his forehead against Mickey's and grinned.  "Deal.  As long I get that," he said, grabbing Mickey's ass with both hands. 

The hickey that blossomed on Ian’s neck overnight was one for the record books.

A few days later summer was officially over and Ian's fall semester at school was starting. That night Ian made sure to get to Mickey’s place first and he made Mickey a romantic dinner of macaroni and cheese using candlesticks and long taper candles he picked up at the dollar store.  Even though they had pretty much declared their exclusivity long ago, and especially that day in the alley behind Mickey's work, that night Ian said it out loud and asked if they could officially throw the condoms away.  Mickey readily agreed and feeling Ian inside him with nothing separating them for the first time ever made them both so happy they had to do it twice more before morning. 

They were enjoying a lovely, if busy, fall.  Halloween came and went as did Veteran's Day and now it was almost Thanksgiving.  Mickey and Ian had been invited to Lee's house to have dinner with Lee and his wife, plus Mandy was going to be there, she was flying in from Seattle.  Fiona and his siblings were very disappointed he wasn't going to spend the day with them, and Fiona was kind of giving Ian constant shit about it at work.  At school Ian was taking three courses that semester for the first time since starting college, and they were all vital for getting his teaching credentials when the time came for him to be tested upon graduating.  They were all intense classes, and he had been feeling the strain almost since the semester began.  He was sleeping less and less, telling Mickey he'd stay at his house if his late nights were interfering with Mickey getting enough sleep.  Mickey told him it was fine, but he didn't like how many times he'd wake up, go out to paint, and come back to discover Ian still up on his laptop, having never gone to bed at all.  Mickey tried to mention that to Ian, but Ian dismissed it, saying he was fine and that he had to get into the shower, ending the conversation.  Any time Mickey tried to bring it up, Ian would interrupt him and leave, one way or another. 

Ian was getting more and more tense about Thanksgiving the closer the day came.  He asked Mickey countless times what they should bring, researching the best wines to go with turkey online and almost bursting into tears when Mickey said Lee's wife didn't drink and that Lee only liked beer. 

"Ian, they don't expect us to bring anything, it's fine.  Lee's wife Connie cooks and bakes and there will be five different kinds of pies there, I know from past experience.  She doesn't need or want anything."  Mickey was trying to be reassuring, but he had the feeling Ian wasn't listening to him at all. 

"And what about Mandy?" Ian said, dropping the Lee and Connie angle for the moment.

"They don't expect her to bring anything either?" Mickey said, wondering what Ian was getting at.  He hated this lately, that he felt like he didn't know what Ian was asking or what he wanted from Mickey.  The whole reason Mickey felt so comfortable with him at the start was because they were so in sync, they spoke the same language even without words. 

"What am I supposed to bring her, numbnuts?" Ian said. 

"What did you just call me?  If they're numb, it's because of the workout you give them.  But, hey, Mandy doesn't expect anything either.  You don't have to give her anything-she won't be giving you anything," he laughed, but Ian didn't laugh with him. 

A couple of days before Thanksgiving, out of the blue, Ian asked if anyone going to dinner at Lee's had a nut allergy.

"How the fuck should I know?" Mickey asked, grumpy because Ian woke him up while it was still dark out to ask him.  He was burrowing back into his pillow when he heard Ian sniffle.  Mickey thought to himself, "He can't be crying?" but raised his head up to check.  Sure enough, in the low light from the bedside lamp Ian had turned on, Mickey could see his eyes were full of tears.  Mickey silently berated himself.  He knew Ian had a big test today, the last test before the school gave its students the rest of the week off for Thanksgiving.  Ian had been worrying about it and studying hard for the past two weeks. 

"Uh, Mandy and me, we're not, I know for a fact.  Oh!  And Connie always makes pecan pie, and she and Lee always say it's their favorite, so, that's a nut, right?" Mickey said, turning over and putting his hand gently on Ian's shoulder.  Ian sniffed again and nodded. 

"Thanks, Mickey," he said, not meeting his eye.

"Yeah, sorry I wasn't nicer when you first asked.  How about we try to get back to sleep, okay?"  Mickey reached over Ian to shut off the light, then settled down facing him, brushing his hair back off his forehead.  Ian didn't respond, but he did shut his eyes.  These days, Mickey had to take that as a win. 

On Thanksgiving Day, Lee and Connie were thrilled with the cashews Ian brought.

"Man, I love these," Lee enthused.  They're going to be so good to munch on while we're watching the game!" 

"Ian, that was so thoughtful of you-I don't know why I've never thought to have those at the holidays, my grandmother would always have a dish of nuts out at Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I think I even have her nut dish somewhere," Connie said, taking the container from Ian and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Mickey smiled up at Ian.  "She loves you, man, you're in," Mickey said low, as Connie bustled off to her china cabinet.  Ian was relieved, this was like meeting Mickey's parents for god's sake, he wanted to make a good impression.  But he was still worried about meeting Mandy.  He knew she and Mickey were close, he wanted her to like him at least a little.

"When do you think Mandy will get here?" Ian whispered to Mickey after Lee took their coats.

"Late, as usual," Mickey said airily.  Ian wished he had given him a serious answer, he was anxious. 

"I told your sister we'd be eating at one so she'd at least try to be here by then," Connie said, meeting up with the men in the living room and putting the nut dish down on the coffee table in front of the couch.  "But we really won't be sitting down till one thirty."  Ian looked at his watch, it was twelve thirty now. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ian asked.  "Set the table, do some dishes, anything?"

Connie and Lee laughed.  "No thank you, sweetie, everything's under control.  Thank you for offering, though." 

They had just sat down in the living room and Mickey and Lee were discussing the first NFL game of the day when the doorbell rang.  Ian tensed up next to Mickey and Mickey gave him a look. 

"Ian, it's just my sister, not the queen of England.  Relax," Mickey said. 

They stood up as Connie and Mandy walked into the room.  Mandy made a beeline for Ian.  He got a quick impression of her dark hair and blue eyes before she was all over him with hugs and kisses on his cheek.

"Holy shit, my brother wasn't kidding.  You are a work of art!"  She was feeling his arms and then put her hands on his waist.  "I bet you have a six pack under this sweater, don't you?  Mickey, he's so far out of your league, what are you doing?" she laughed.  Ian had tensed up though.  He didn't like anyone making Mickey think he didn't deserve anything he wanted, and Ian knew for a fact he was far from being "too good" for Mickey. 

Mickey could still read the scowl Ian was getting on his face in this instance, even if he felt off kilter with Ian lately.

"Relax, Ian.  She's my baby sister, she gets to bust my balls.  She's the only one who gets to bust them, and she'll be the first to plaster anyone else who tries."  Mickey's eyes were smiling as he took in Mandy's appearance.  "You look good, Mands.  Travel must agree with you."

"It really does," she said, giving Ian one last squeeze and then walking over to give her brother a hug.  "Being a buyer for Nordstroms is so cool! I never thought I'd fit into that world, but I love it." 

"Good for you, honey," Lee said, getting his hello hug from Mandy. 

"Hey, Ian?  Sorry if I came on too strong.  I wasn't thinking.  I just assumed if my ape of a brother hadn't scared you off, you could handle me at full Milkovich.  Seeing Mickey always brings it out in me, but I should've directed it at him first."

Ian smiled, and Mandy fell a little bit more in love with him.  She was already ready to just from months of hearing how happy her brother was, then finally seeing him and getting to see firsthand that Mickey wasn't exaggerating about how sweet and handsome he was pretty much sealed the deal. 

"It's okay," Ian said shyly.  "You're very pretty, by the way." 

"Because I look like Mickey, right?" Mandy said, having already seen the way Ian hardly took his eyes off her brother.  "It's okay, I get it."  She laughed.  Ian was blushing cutely, Mickey was looking half proud, half uncomfortable, and Lee and Connie were happy Mickey was happy. 

After dinner, Ian insisted that he be allowed to help with the dishes, and Mandy wanted to stick near him to learn more about him, so she volunteered too. Mickey and Lee took off to watch whatever game was on TV, so Connie put leftovers away and lightly supervised Ian and Mandy while they washed and dried her good china and silverware that couldn’t go in the dishwasher, and pointing out the things that could go through the dishwasher.

Mandy did most of the talking, which was fine by Ian. She mainly talked about her job. She was dying to ask Ian questions, but knew Mickey wouldn’t appreciate her putting his boyfriend through the third degree. Ian liked Mandy a lot, she was as tough and blunt as Mickey, but since those were things he loved about Mickey he didn’t have a problem with her rough edges. And he liked how she just was who she was, without apologies, just like Mickey.

When the kitchen was all set to rights, Connie told Mickey and Lee they could bring the full garbage bag out to the trash bin behind the garage, since they hadn’t helped with the clean up yet.

“Hardly a two man job,” Lee tried to argue, but Connie told him he could do the recyclables.

“I’ll do it,” Ian volunteered.

“Me too,” Mandy said. “I’m dying for a smoke and I know Mickey will be grabbing one out there.” They got their coats and headed outside.

Mickey did light up, and Mandy bummed a cigarette off him.

“Get your own,” Mickey groused, even as he handed one over.

“Don’t got any-I’m trying to quit,” Mandy said. Mickey held out his lighter and flicked it so Mandy could light up. She cupped her hand around Mickey’s to get the cigarette lit and then took half a step back.

Ian reached into his pocket and shyly said, “Mandy? Um, since it’s Thanksgiving and all, I, uh, I got you something.”

Mandy and Mickey raised their eyebrows at the same time. “You didn’t have to do that,” Mandy said, smiling. “And I’ve got scarves for you guys, brought them back from my last buying trip.”

“Well, see? I did need to give you something too, then,” Ian replied, shooting a look at Mickey. Mickey just turned his head and blew out some smoke.

Mandy opened the pretty little box Ian had given her. Inside was a delicate silver chain necklace with a little silver bead hanging from it.

“Ian, it’s beautiful,” Mandy breathed.

“You really like it? Mickey has a couple of pictures of you around the apartment, I thought it’d go with your features, maybe.”

Mickey snorted. “Her looks say one thing, but her personality says she should wear a tire chain.”

Mandy smacked Mickey in the chest with the back of her hand, hard. “I’m a fucking lady, thank you fucking much, you fuck,” she yelled.

Ian and Mickey laughed. Luckily Mickey had his coat zipped up and it took the brunt of her punishment.

“At my school I have a couple classes with a guy who makes jewelry-he let me go to his shop and showed me how to make this,” Ian said, watching while Mandy put the necklace on.

“You made it?” the Milkovich siblings said in unison.

“The chain and everything?” Mickey added. Ian nodded.

“Ian, it’s beautiful, and knowing you made it yourself makes it even more precious to me, thank you so much!” Mandy said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. The siblings finished off their smokes and the group headed inside so Mandy could show her necklace to Connie and Lee. Mandy and Mickey were in front of Ian walking through the kitchen door. When Ian stepped into the room behind them, he saw Connie standing near the sink, but then out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw someone down on the floor at her feet.

Ian turned and ran back out the door, Mickey following close behind. Ian didn’t stop till he got to the back fence of Lee and Connie’s property, and then he grabbed the top of the chest high chain-link fence with both hands and just stood there breathing heavily, looking at the ground.

“Hey, man, you all right? Gonna barf or something?” Mickey was asking him, but his voice sounded tinny to Ian, and like it was coming from very far away. Ian pushed back, still holding onto the fence, and let his head drop as low as he could between his shoulders. Everything was tunneling down to a pinpoint, and he was afraid he was going to pass out. He kept gulping in air.

He had no idea how long he was out of it, but he felt Mickey’s warm hand on the back of his neck and finally looked at him, seeing Mandy, Connie, and Lee standing behind Mickey with their coats on, the same concerned look in all their eyes.

“You okay, son?” Lee asked, seeing that Ian was finally focusing again. “Maybe you need some water-come on, ladies, let’s go back inside and Mickey and Ian will come in in a minute.” Ian nodded and Mickey tightened the grip on his neck for a second, then let him go.

“You okay now, Ian?” Mickey asked gently, after the door closed behind the other three.

“Yeah, sorry, Mick. Don’t know what came over me.”

“Um, you were sort of muttering a bit there,” Mickey said. “Something about blood on the floor?”

Ian squeezed his eyes shut. “Uh, sorry. Um, sort of had a flashback? One Thanksgiving when I was a teenager, um, my mom tried to slit her wrists in the kitchen.”

“Aw, Ian,” Mickey whispered, going to hug him. Ian stiffened and backed up.

“Uh, sorry, not really ready to be touched yet,” Ian said, his voice breaking.

“Ian, that’s okay-just tell me what you need, that’s good, you’re good.”

Ian just wanted to go, but he didn’t want to drag Mickey away from his friends, so he didn’t say anything.

“Hey, it’s been a long day-a long week for you with that exam and stuff. How ‘bout we go home?”

Ian could’ve wept with relief. All he wanted was to get into bed and sleep. He nodded and started walking to the backdoor again. Mickey followed.

“Guys, this has been great, but we’re exhausted and want to get on home,” Mickey said to the group of three sitting at the little kitchen table having coffee. Mandy had two flat skinny boxes on the table near her, and she stood up and handed one each to Mickey and Ian.

“I don’t know if I gave you guys the right boxes-Mickey your scarf is blue because of your eyes, and Ian I got you black because with your coloring, I think it’ll look sexy as fff…hell,” Mandy said, shooting an apologetic glance at Connie.

Mickey lifted the lid off his box and the blue scarf was inside. He pulled it out. “Damn, that’s soft.”

“Cashmere, you like?” Mandy grinned. “Ian?”

Ian opened his box and picked up the scarf and felt it between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve never had anything so nice, thank you,” he said quietly. Mandy looked like she wanted to hug him, but she looked at Mickey and he shook his head, so she held back. Ian put the box on the table and slowly wound the scarf around his neck, then looked at Mickey.

“You look very nice, Ian. Good choice, Mandy,” Connie said softly. Ian managed a small smile.

“Okay, we’re gonna bounce,” Mickey said. “Connie, thanks for everything, it was all delicious as usual. Lee, see you Monday at work.” Mickey, not much of a hugger himself, usually would hug these people goodbye on a holiday, but he didn’t want Ian to feel obligated. “Mandy, text me, uh, we’ll work something out to see each other before you go.”

Ian looked up from studying his toes. “Isn’t Mandy coming to your place?”

Mickey and Mandy were shaking their heads. “She’s gonna stay here, she’s only in town a couple of days.”

“Mickey, no, you should be with your sister…” Ian was trying to insist. He had just assumed all along Mandy would be staying on Mickey’s couch like she usually did when she was in Chicago overnight, from what Mickey told him she had always done before.

“Lee and Connie have a beautiful guest room with a real bed-I don’t want to sleep on my brother’s lumpy old couch,” Mandy said, trying to catch Ian’s eye. “Besides, I never get time to really visit with these guys, and they’re like my fairy godparents. Honestly, Ian, this was the plan for me coming here all along.”

Ian felt like crying more than ever now. He knew how close Mickey and Mandy usually were. Mandy should stay with him and Ian should just go home. But when he had that thought, he thought of Monica on the Gallagher kitchen floor again, and started to panic thinking how he couldn’t go home either.

“Ian, come on, let’s get going. Mandy’s owed these guys a visit forever-when they got me, they got her too, like a package deal. She really was planning to stay here all along this visit,” Mickey assured him. Ian finally mumbled a goodbye to Lee, Connie, and Mandy and they walked to the front door to leave. Outside, Ian asked Mickey if he wouldn’t mind driving. Ian had a headache pounding behind his eyes and forehead that was threatening to set him off screaming, it hurt so much.

Mickey, of course, was willing to drive home, and once there Ian went straight to the bedroom, took off his coat, scarf, and shoes and collapsed onto the bed.

“Do you need to take anything?” Mickey asked quietly. “Some aspirin or any of your meds?”

Ian groaned into the pillow. “Should probably take some of my pills to help me sleep-I’ll get up and get them in a minute. Please, Mickey, just leave me alone for a bit, okay? I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Mickey left him reluctantly, and went to the kitchen to put away the leftovers Connie had packed into the backseat of Ian’s car at some point before they left. He shot off a quick text to Mandy saying Ian was going to sleep and asking her to thank their hosts again for Thanksgiving dinner. Mandy texted back that she would, and to let any of them know if there was anything they could do for Ian.

The next morning Ian didn’t get out of bed.

“Still feeling lousy?” Mickey said, but Ian wouldn’t answer. Ian had been asleep when Mickey went to bed the night before, and he let him sleep in, but now it was getting past ten o’clock and Ian still hadn’t spoken, even though he seemed awake. He just pulled the blankets up to the bridge of his nose and rolled away from Mickey, who was standing next to the bed.

Around noon, Mickey tried again. “I’m gonna heat up some leftovers, you want? Connie sent a bit of everything, plenty to go around…” Ian’s eyes were open, but he just stared at Mickey. “Or, if you’re not feeling good, I think I’ve got some saltines in the cabinet, and I could get you some ginger ale.” Still nothing. “Ian, tell me what you need, please,” Mickey said, his voice barely above a whisper. Ian just stared at him, but Mickey felt like Ian wasn’t even seeing him. His eyes were so empty. Mickey went to the kitchen and brought Ian a bottle of water, taking the cap off and leaving it on the table next to the bed. He wanted to touch Ian so badly, but he was afraid to, so he left the room and spent the rest of the day in front of the TV, the sound turned almost all the way down so he could hear if Ian stirred. He couldn’t concentrate on whatever was playing on the screen in front of him anyway.

The next day was exactly the same. Ian was drinking the water, anyway, and had gotten up to use the bathroom a couple of times, but other than that, nothing. Mickey was getting very freaked out at Ian being such a zombie. He still hadn’t acknowledged Mickey in any way. Mickey didn’t know what else to do, so he called Jacky.

“I’ll be right there,” Jacky said once Mickey gave him a rundown of Ian’s condition.

When Jacky arrived, Mickey brought him to the bedroom to see Ian.

“Hey, Ian, not feeling so hot?” Jacky said quietly, squatting down next to the bed so he was at eyelevel with Ian. Ian just stared at him too. “Are you taking your pills-any of them?” Jacky tried. No answer. “Ian, how about you tell me the name of your doctor and I’ll…”  
  
“Jesus, leave me alone!” Ian shouted. Mickey jumped, startled at the volume and anger of Ian’s voice.

Jacky stood up and turned to face Mickey, who had been standing in the doorway the whole time. Jacky motioned with his head towards the living room, and Mickey turned to walk out of the room. Jacky softly closed the bedroom door behind them.

“It’s going to be okay, Mickey. Let me call Florida Don a minute, okay?” Jacky said, rubbing Mickey’s shoulder, trying to reassure him. Florida Don was a good friend of Jacky’s.

“Flo? Hey, I’m over at a friend’s house, and he has a friend who has bipolar, and he’s having a bit of trouble right now. Hasn’t been out of bed for a couple of days.” Jacky listened for a bit, nodding. He spoke to Mickey. “Do you know where he keeps his pills?”

“Bathroom,” Mickey said, turning to walk down the hall again. He brought Jacky into the bathroom and opened the mirror above the sink. He had never really paid attention to the four orange bottles Ian had lined up in there. Ian had just brought them over at some point and asked if it’d be okay if he left them there, and Mickey had said of course.

Jacky was reading the names of the drugs to Florida Dan, then he listened and nodded. “Thanks, you’re a peach. I’ll let you know how everything goes.” Jacky disconnected the call and turned to Mickey. “So, Florida Dan’s my friend who has bipolar too,” he said. “His advice is to get a hold of Ian’s doctor, and in the meantime what Florida’s therapist has him do when he gets depressive like this is double up on this pill,” Jacky took one of the bottles off the shelf, “and sleep it off till he can get up and get to a session. I’d rather talk to Ian’s doctor first, but if we can’t get him to tell us who that is, we’ll try what Flo said, okay?”

Mickey nodded, he’d try anything to help Ian at this point.

“Do you have his phone? Maybe we could find his therapist in there,” Jacky suggested.

Mickey had hung up Ian’s coat on the rack near the front door of the apartment when they got home on Thanksgiving so he went there now to check the pockets. Ian’s phone was in there and Mickey knew the passcode since Ian had had him use his phone in the months they’d been together to check movie times and call for food and various things like that. He got into Ian’s contacts and was stumped. Ian had his own system for listing them, just using one letter instead of putting in a name or nickname.

“Jesus, the guy wastes all his time putting special ringtones for everybody, but he doesn’t use names in his contacts?” Mickey said to Jacky. Mickey was pretty distraught, Jacky could see that.

“Does he have a special ringtone for you?” Jacky asked, trying to distract Mickey from his worries for a bit.

Mickey actually snorted out a little laugh. “Course he does-Hey Mickey.” Jacky laughed too, that was awfully cute.

“He put a bunch in my phone too-Barry Manilow for Mandy,” Mickey smiled big at the thought, “All The Way by Frank Sinatra for him…”

“Classy,” Jacky said, impressed.

“Kinky,” Mickey corrected. “I, ah, might have made a reference to redwoods once, and in that song there’s a line about ‘taller than the tallest tree is’…basically it’s all just one big dick joke,” Mickey said, then sobbed. “Jacky, he’s just never been like this. Where’s the Ian that laughs and loves music and making jokes about his dick?”

Jacky wrapped an arm around Mickey. “Hey, he’s still in there. He’s just going through a bad patch right now, but we’re gonna help him. Let’s see if we can’t figure something out from that phone. Does he have an ICE number listed?”

“Ice?” Mickey asked, confused.

“In Case of Emergency, ICE,” Jacky clarified. Mickey scrolled down the contact list.

“Hey, yeah, he does! Gotta love you boy scout types,” he said, looking at Jacky with gratitude.

“Call it, maybe it’s his therapist or doctor,” Jacky said.

The phone on the other end rang a couple of times before a harried voice barked into his ear, “Ian, I don’t have time for this, whatever it is.”

Mickey was somewhat taken aback. Not the therapist, he was guessing.

“Um, this isn’t Ian. I’m a friend of his…” he tried by way of introduction.

“A friend? Mickey?” the woman said.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m Mickey. Are you Ian’s sister?”

“Yeah, I’m Fiona. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s Ian, he’s not getting out of bed.” Mickey didn’t want to alarm her, and wasn’t sure what to say.

“And you’re calling me why?” Fiona said.

“Uh, well, he’s never really told me what I should do in case this sort of thing happened, and you’re his emergency contact in his phone?” Mickey didn’t understand her attitude. When Ian talked about his sister, she sounded like she was somewhere right below the Virgin Mary and Mother Theresa.

“I told him to move me down that list. He’s supposed to call Lip or the Balls, or hell, probably even you should be on the list before me now, since he’s decided he’d rather stay with you and spend his holidays with you instead of his family.” Fiona sounded bitter as fuck, Mickey hardly thought this was the time or place for that. “Listen, is he bleeding or in the hospital?” Fiona barked.

“Uh, no, just won’t get up out of bed…”

“Well then, not an emergency. Look, like I said, I don’t got time for this, I’m late for work as it is-you try running a diner. Call Lip.”

“Could you just tell me the name of…” Mickey tried saying quickly, but she had already hung up.

“What a bitch,” he said to Jacky.

“You want to try calling her back?” Jacky said dubiously, as he saw Mickey punch the screen with his finger.

“Look, just take a fucking second and tell me the name of your brother’s doctor,” he said, before Fiona could start bitching again.

“I don’t know it-don’t call again unless it’s a real emergency,” Fiona said, then hung up again.

“Oh, Jesus, Mickey. I’m a fucking idiot,” Jacky said.

“What?” Mickey said, irritated and frustrated, mainly from trying to deal with Ian’s sister.

“Ian’s doctor’s name is probably on the labels on his prescriptions. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that sooner-I was only concentrating on telling Florida the names.”

Mickey was already taking off down the hall, thankful that Jacky had that thought. Better late than never.

The doctor’s name and number were on the labels. It was the weekend, so they had to leave a message with an answering service, but the operator told them their call would be returned shortly.

Mickey paced the kitchen while they waited, gnawing at his fingernail.

A doctor called back after about twenty minutes. It wasn’t Ian’s doctor, she was on a vacation for the holiday, but this doctor was covering for her. He listened to Mickey’s description of what was going on, asked one or two questions, and then told them to do exactly what Florida Don had suggested and told them to have Ian go to his doctor’s office when he was up again, or to an urgent care or emergency room if the doctor’s office wasn’t open whenever he woke up and felt up to getting out of bed again. He warned Mickey Ian might not feel like doing that for days to come, the meds would keep him knocked out for a while if nothing else.

After that call, Mickey wanted to try to get Ian to take his meds. Jacky suggested they try to get him to eat a little something with it, and they decided to make toast. Mickey brought the toast, pills, and water to Ian and Ian did manage to prop himself up on one elbow and munched one piece of toast down. Mickey didn’t want Ian to feel like he was being watched, so he rearranged his socks and underwear drawer while Ian ate. When Mickey didn’t hear any more toast crunching, he turned around and saw that Ian was swallowing the pills, then Ian rolled onto his back and pulled the blankets back up, covering the toast plate when he did so. Mickey decided not to disturb him trying to get the plate and the uneaten toast back and quietly left the room.

He reported to Jacky that Ian had gotten the pills down with one piece of the toast and told Jacky they’d be fine now, and Jacky didn’t have to stay.

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” Jacky said.

“Naw, I’m pretty beat. Think I’ll try sleeping on the couch, now that I know he’s sleeping.” Jacky pulled Mickey into a warm hug and told him that was a good idea.

“Call me tomorrow-or sooner if there’s any reason to-and if you need anything, anything at all, just ask, Mickey, I mean it. I can bring you food, do some grocery shopping, laundry, you name it.”

Mickey woke a few hours later, checked on the still sleeping Ian, then checked his own phone. He had a bunch of texts from Mandy that he didn’t bother to read, electing to call her instead.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” Mandy asked after they said their hellos. Mickey updated her. “Can I see you tonight, Mickey? I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about that,” Mickey said.

“Hey, it’s okay, I know you’ve got Ian on your mind,” Mandy said, but sounded disappointed, because she was. Mickey thought about Ian’s sister being such a bitch and knew Mandy would never be like that. She could be a bitch, but not about important stuff. Plus, Mickey just really needed someone he loved and trusted right about now.

“Hey, maybe Jacky could come stay with Ian for a bit-he’s just going to be sleeping anyway,” Mickey said.

“Or I could come there…”

“Wouldn’t want to disturb Ian, or keep you from being your loud self,” Mickey said, but with fondness.

Mickey called Jacky and he said he’d be more than happy to stay at the apartment so Mickey could see Mandy before she had to leave town.

Mickey and Mandy went out and found a quiet restaurant where Mickey could talk about Ian, not just what was happening now, but also about their relationship in general, now that Mandy had met him. She let Mickey know she liked Ian a lot, and how she could tell from their phone calls since the spring how much Mickey liked him too.

“I love him, Mandy,” Mickey admitted. Mandy whooped.

“You’ve never said that about anybody, ever, you do realize that, don’t you?” she crowed.

“And this is what I was talking about when I knew you couldn’t be quiet,” Mickey deflected. He realized too late that not only had he never said that about anyone, he also hadn’t said it to Ian yet, and felt bad that he probably should’ve been the one to hear it first.

They only stayed out a couple of hours. Mandy knew Mickey was anxious to get back to Ian, plus he wasn’t in a good frame of mind for listening to her talk about work, which she could tell him about anytime over the phone.

When Mickey got home, Jacky was sitting on the couch reading a magazine. He stood up and stretched while Mickey hung up his coat.

“All quiet, he didn’t wake up the whole time I’ve been here,” Jacky told Mickey, while glancing at his watch. “Which has only been about two and a half hours-you and Mandy could’ve stayed out later.”

“We’re fine-I wanted to get back,” Mickey said.

“I get it,” Jacky said. “But he was in good hands. I was thinking, if you need to get back to work after tomorrow, I can watch him, plus I have friends who have done this with Florida and some other friends. We’ll all be happy to come up with a schedule.”

Mickey looked upset. “How long do you think this will go on?”

“No way of telling, but from what I’ve seen with Flo in the past, it sort of seems like the longer he was manic before crashing, the longer the depressive episode lasts? Do you remember when Ian first started acting manic?”

Mickey’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “You mean when he started acting depressed? Not till…well, he was sort of upset about what to bring to Lee’s for Thanksgiving, but he got over that quick, he didn’t get all depressed like now.”

“But before that, Mickey. Did you notice he had lots of energy, like, manic energy? Couldn’t settle down, couldn’t rest?”

“Well, yeah, sort of, since this school semester started, you know? Lots of tests and pressure and studying. He wasn’t sleeping much.”

Jacky nodded. “So, a couple of months at least, it sounds like.”

“Fuck, Jacky. How did I miss that?”

“You didn’t know, Mickey. And there were outside factors to explain it away-it’s okay. Anyway, he was seeing his doctor, right? Taking his pills? Doing everything he could-sometimes this just happens. He’ll be okay again, Mickey, he just needs time and they’ll probably adjust his meds.”

“I love him, Jacky. I don’t know what I’d do if he stayed like this, or if he stays like he’s been the past couple of months-I’ll be worrying the whole time things were going to be bad again.”

“Mickey, I know you love him. Anyone who has seen you two together knows that. But you have to love all of him, not just the pretty and easy parts, but this side too, with the worries and depression, if you’re going to stay with him.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with him, what the fuck?” Mickey said.

Jacky raised his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “I don’t mean to upset you, Mickey, but you have to realize how things are. You’re not going to like this either, but I took all your knives out of your kitchen, and the ties and belts out of your closet, and locked them in the trunk of Ian’s car.”

“You did what?” Mickey said, trying not to raise his voice.

“It’s something me and my friends have learned we need to do, sometimes. I’m not saying Ian would try to hurt himself, but why take any chances that he might?” Jacky said.

Mickey remembered what Ian said about his mom and Thanksgiving, and closed his eyes. Jacky was giving him a lot to think about.

After Jacky left, Mickey sat on the bed and watched Ian sleep for a while. He wished so badly he could take Ian’s pain and worries away. He wished he could touch Ian, or hold him, but he didn’t want to wake him.

He carefully got off the bed so he wouldn’t jostle Ian and went to the living room. He sat down with his laptop and started looking up articles on bipolar disorder. At first he was looking at medical sites and articles published by the American Psychiatric Association. Then he found some first-hand accounts written by people who had the disorder and it really helped him begin to accept what Ian was most likely dealing with himself. Mickey decided the most important thing to remember was Ian was still Ian, and sometimes his brain worked too fast or too slow for him to process things as he usually did. Mickey knew he wanted to hear Ian’s thoughts about bipolar as soon as he felt up to talking about it.

Luckily the next morning Ian woke up and told Mickey he thought he should call his doctor. Mickey brought him his phone and Ian had to wait for a return call, just as Jacky and Mickey had done the day before. Since it was now Sunday, Ian decided he’d wait till the next day to see his regular therapist if she could squeeze him in, rather than going to an emergency room.

“I’ll be okay, Mickey,” he told him after he got off the phone. “I just,uh, I gotta take more pills and sleep some more, though, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Mickey said. “You want to have a shower? I can make you some oatmeal while you’re in there, to eat with the pills? I’ve got the kind with raisins…”

Ian smiled a little smile, and Mickey could’ve wept with joy. “Yeah, Mick. I love the kind with raisins, and a shower will feel good.”

Ian took a quick five minute shower and Mickey had his oatmeal ready since it was the instant kind. Ian ate it, and drank a whole bottle of water with his pills. He handed Mickey the empty bowl and shyly scooted back down under the covers. Mickey smiled at him.

“It’s okay, get your sleep. I’ll be in the living room if you want me.”

“I…I want you, Mick. Could you stay in here for a bit?”

Mickey put the bowl down on the bedside table and kicked off his sneakers. He gently laid down next to Ian, getting under the covers with him. He reached over and placed his hand over Ian’s, which Ian had resting on his chest. Ian shut his eyes and Mickey watched him while he fell back asleep. After a while, Mickey dozed off too.

Ian was able to see his regular therapist the next day, and she suggested they try a stronger anti-anxiety medication once he and Mickey ran down what had happened. Mickey was surprised and glad when Ian asked him to go to the doctor with him, and of course Lee had no objection to letting Mickey have the day off. The therapist was glad to meet Mickey, Ian had told her a lot about him in his regular sessions with her. She encouraged Mickey to ask any questions he might have, and was impressed by his eagerness to ask about things he had read online. She could tell he cared about Ian and wanted to help in any of the ways he could.

Mickey knew that right now, getting Ian feeling better was the most important thing, and that the things he wanted to ask Ian about directly could wait. But the visit with the doctor was very reassuring for him, and when they left the office he had no doubt in his mind that he wanted to be with Ian every step of the way. Ian had good people willing to help him, and Mickey definitely wanted to be part of his life, if Ian wanted him to be.

A few days later, Ian was feeling enough like his usual self to actually bring the subject of his episode up with Mickey.

“Sorry I fucked everything up at Thanksgiving,” he said as they were at the sink washing their dinner dishes.

Mickey was drying and he put the plate and towel he was holding down and stuck his hands into the dishwater to grab Ian’s hands.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” he said, giving Ian’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Everyone loved meeting you and we got home before you had to get into bed-it’s okay.”

Ian looked into Mickey’s eyes. He knew Mickey wasn’t bullshitting him, but he still felt bad.

“I hate putting you through that,” Ian said. “And I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but actually I think the odds are pretty good it will…”

“Stop,” Mickey said softly, getting up on his tiptoes for a second to give Ian a soft kiss. “I love you, and I want to be with you no matter what.”

“Mickey, it’s just not fair for you to have to deal with this stuff for the next forty years or so…”

“Ian, it’s not your fault you need to take medication and you have bipolar. You have to deal with it, so why shouldn’t I?” Mickey’s eyes were so blue, never letting Ian drop his glance, staying with his line of vision even when he tried looking away.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Ian insisted.

“Ian, nobody’s perfect and I’m not expecting you to be either.”

Ian thought for a moment. “Mickey, did you just say you love me a minute ago?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Took you long enough to notice,” he smirked, shaking his wet hands over the sink and picking the dishtowel back up. Ian snatched it from his hands and put his wet hands on Mickey’s waist, pulling him to him.

“If you say it again, this time I’ll pay better attention,” Ian said, his nose about a quarter of an inch away from Mickey’s, looking right into his eyes without trying to look away now.

Mickey whispered, “Will you say it back?”

Ian smiled.

“I love you, Ian.”

“I love you too, Mickey.” Ian leaned forward and kissed Mickey, slow and soft and sweet.

Ian went back to Fiona’s to sleep that night-the next day was to be his first back to work at the diner and he figured it’d be better to see her at home first where they could talk, instead of work. Mickey hadn’t told Ian about their phone conversations, just that he had called Ian’s in case of emergency number and that they had spoken.

“Maybe you should change that number to your doctor...or me?” Mickey had suggested the night they had seen the therapist.

“You’d want to be my emergency contact?” Ian said.

“Sure-I mean, I hope there’s never a reason to call it, but if there is, I’d want to know,” Mickey said. “And I’d want to help.”

Ian smiled and took out his phone and changed the number under ICE.

“Um, was kind of wondering how I’d get in touch with your family if I ever needed to, too,” Mickey said. “Don’t really get your contact list.”

Ian looked down at his phone and chuckled, which made Mickey feel so good inside. Ian was already so different then he had been since Thanksgiving night.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Gimme your phone and I’ll put in everybody, using their real names.” Ian was quiet for a few minutes while he typed into Mickey’s phone, using his own phone for reference since he didn’t have anyone’s number but Mickey’s memorized.

“And just in case you ever need to call anyone on my phone, I’ll tell you the main players-your number is A,” Ian began, but only got that far before Mickey interrupted.

“Why A?” Mickey asked.

“Because it comes up first in the contact list,” Ian smiled.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Mickey thought for a moment, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer to his next question. “Um, who was A before you met me?”

“The hotline at school you call to find out if classes have been canceled due to snow,” Ian told him.

“Nah,” Mickey didn’t believe him.

“It’s true-now that number is S for snowday. Anyway, you’re A, Lip is B for brother, Fiona is F for Fiona…”

“Why isn’t Lip L for Lip?” Mickey said.

“Because L is halfway through the alphabet and who has the time to scroll?” Ian said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, B was free. Anyway, C is Carl, D is Doctor, E is Debbie…”

“Because D was already in use?” Mickey said.

“Now you’re catching on,” Ian grinned. F’s Fiona, like I said, G is our house phone that half the time isn’t in service because no one ever remembers to pay the bill, K is our friend Kevin and V is his wife Veronica-they live right next door and if no one else knows where one of us is, they usually do-or they can track us down. Those are all the numbers I put in your phone.”

“And the rest of the alphabet is what, old boyfriends?” Mickey asked.

“No, wise guy, they’re not. Most of the other letters aren’t in use yet, although if you think it’s all right, I’d like to have Mandy’s number in case I ever need it someday.”

Mickey said, “Knock yourself out, she’s in my contacts under ‘Mandy’-isn’t that nuts?”

“Well, I’ve got M free, so I think that’s perfect,” Ian grinned. “You sure she won’t mind you giving it to me?”

“I know she won’t-the problem will be the day she has your number and starts calling you all the time instead of me because you’re better to talk to,” Mickey said seriously.

“I’m not,” Ian said.

“You are-you’re nicer and a better listener,” Mickey said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m cranky and don’t have time for her bullshit, usually.”

“You’re a big softie and you know it,” Ian smiled. Then he yawned, and Mickey decided it was time for them to get some sleep. Ian had had a long day-they both had.

Now it was a few days after that conversation and Ian was back at “home”, although whenever he was doing anything and thought of home these days, he meant Mickey’s apartment-it felt more like home than home did to him these days.. The Gallagher house was in its usual state of chaos and Ian felt that Fiona was only half listening to his account of Thanksgiving and the following days.

“Told you you should’ve just come here for Thanksgiving,” was all she said to him when he was finished. Ian just shook his head. If anything, being in the house that day probably would’ve been a lot worse. He was wishing he hadn’t planned on staying the night at the house now. He missed Mickey. He liked going to bed with Mickey, even if they hadn’t gone back to having sex yet while he adjusted to his new pill regimen. He slept better sleeping next to Mickey.

That night he snuck out of the Gallagher house and found a nice wall between the diner and Lee’s storefront office.

The next morning he met up with Mickey for breakfast before his classes for the day. They had breakfast and then Ian said he had to run to get to class but that Mickey should stay and finish his coffee. Ian insisted on paying the check, but told Mickey to stay and relax and talk to Gladys. Ian went to the counter to settle up, and after he had left, Sharon/Gladys went to Mickey's table and handed him a post-it note.

"Ian asked me to give this to you once he had left," she smiled. She loved the chance to play Cupid for her two favorite boys.

The note just had an address on it, no time or any other instructions, so Mickey figured he'd check it out on his way to work and left the diner. When he got to the address, he didn’t see anything special. The building itself was just some optometrist's place, he wondered if Ian was subtly trying to tell him he needed glasses or something, but then he noticed the lot next to it was empty and walking over there he saw there was a white painted wall at the back of that lot and painted on it he saw a big red heart and a message painted underneath that looked like Ian (he correctly assumed) used stencils to paint: IT’S NOT PERFECT, BUT IT’S ALL YOURS.

Mickey’s eyes welled up and he took a picture of it with his phone. Then he sent off a brief text to Ian: “Message received”, and then sent the photo as well.

Ian couldn’t wait to get to Mickey’s apartment that night after school and his shift at the diner. He was definitely ready to be with Mickey again, the only raincloud being he never knew how new meds were going to affect his abilities to perform. But by now he knew Mickey would be patient and understanding if he had to be, but Ian really hoped he wouldn’t have to be. Ian wanted Mickey so bad, and he wanted to show Mickey how much he loved him physically as well as with all his heart. He was Mickey’s, body and soul, and he wanted Mickey to know it like he had never known it before.

Ian got to Mickey’s and let himself in. Mickey was sitting on the couch doing some work on his laptop, but put it aside and stood up when Ian walked in. Ian held up a bag from the diner.

“I brought you a meatball sub…” he began.

“I already ate,” Mickey interrupted him.

“Oh, thank god,” Ian said, throwing the bag into the fridge and turning around to get to Mickey in two strides. He hadn’t even taken his coat off, but he grabbed Mickey and kissed him, his mouth open and hungry and insistent, pushing against Mickey’s.

“I ate too, and took my meds. How about we go to the bedroom and see if they slow me down any?” Ian said when he broke the kiss, his hands digging into Mickey’s biceps like he’d never let him go.

Mickey kissed him back, but then pulled away a little again and said, "Are you sure?  We don't have to rush anything."

"Mickey, I've missed you, and I'm sorry my stupid disorder has kept us apart for a while.  I want to show you how much I love you."  Ian kissed him again, even harder this time.

"Ian, slow down," Mickey panted when he could get his mouth free.  "You don't even have your coat off..."

Ian stepped back and impatiently yanked on the zipper of his coat.  "Mickey, you don't have to treat me like I'm fragile, okay?  I'm still me.  I saw Dr. Swenson today and she said I'd had enough time to adjust to the new meds and to go ahead and do anything I feel ready for."

"Okay, that's good, Ian.  That's real good.  But now I can have a minute to catch up, please?"  Mickey didn't want to hurt Ian's feelings, or treat him like he was fragile, but he also didn't want Ian doing anything just because he felt he had to prove himself to Mickey. 

"Catch up?" Ian said, looking confused. 

"Yeah, catch up.  Like, talk a little bit, maybe?  Tell me about your day?  Please?"  Mickey hoped Ian didn't think he wasn't interested in having sex, because he sure was, but he didn't want it to be just about sex. 

Ian got his coat off and sat on the couch, stuffing his coat down onto the cushion next to him.  He looked up at Mickey expectantly, so Mickey sat down next to him, but facing him, taking Ian's hands into his. 

"Tell me about your day," Mickey said again, with a little smile.

Ian almost rolled his eyes, but not quite.  "It was pretty typical.  Went to class, got all my homework done between classes and at the diner on my break while I ate, saw Dr. Swenson.  How was your day?"

"Good," Mickey nodded.  "Lee kept me busy, it made the time pass.  Got a couple of cute texts from this guy I'm seeing.  Reading them you'd have no idea he can be sort of a sex fiend..." 

This time Ian did roll his eyes.  Then he thought for a moment.  "So, uh, one thing the doc and I talked about was school.  This semester I decided to try to take three courses-and I planned to do that in the spring semester too-so I wouldn't have to take one course each during the two summer sessions, and then next year if I took three classes each in the fall and spring, I'd be done ahead of my original plan and I'd graduate next spring.  Now I think it'd be better if I just go back to two classes during the fall and spring and take the summer sessions to do the other three I need.  I was really looking forward to having more free time to spend with you in the summer, but..."  He trailed off. 

Mickey squeezed his hands.  "Ian, that's a great plan.  And I think the time we'll get to spend together will even out in the end-this semester even when we were together, lots of times you were distracted by all the schoolwork.  Which is fine when you need to put school first, but not when it's stressing you out, you know?"

Ian nodded. 

"Thanks for telling me your plan," Mickey smiled gently.  "You, ah, you still want to..."

Mickey didn't even have to finish the thought.  Ian lunged forward and kissed him again, and this time Mickey was ready to respond with just as much heat.  Mickey managed to stand up while he was still kissing Ian, tugging at Ian's hands to get him to stand up too.  They stumbled and pushed their way to the bedroom.  Ian's big hands were roaming all over Mickey, and Mickey loved it.  They only broke apart long enough to get their shirts off, and when warm skin met warm skin Mickey knew he wasn't going to even try to hold back. 

"I don't think I'm gonna be able to be all that gentle," Ian whispered, grabbing Mickey for another hungry kiss. 

"You read my mind," Mickey said just before their lips crashed. 

Ian's hands were fumbling at Mickey's zipper, and Mickey was trying to get Ian's belt undone.  They both looked down, then up into each other's eyes, and then switched so their hands were working to get their own stuff undone.  Mickey unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down, then turned to the bed and pulled the covers down, hearing the sound of Ian's leather belt being rapidly pulled through the loops behind him.  Mickey's dick twitched in response to the sound.  Mickey toed off his shoes and pulled his pants and boxers off and tugged each sock off, while watching Ian get his clothes off with lust-filled eyes. 

"How do you want me?" Mickey said lowly, and Ian moaned. 

"I want you right here," Ian said, pointing to the floor in front of him.  Mickey quickly walked right up to him and stood awaiting further instructions. 

Ian was looking deeply into Mickey's eyes.  "I love you," he said. 

Mickey swallowed.  "I love you too." 

Ian put his hands on each side of Mickey's face and pulled him into a tender kiss.  Mickey's hands immediately went to Ian's waist, he let them rest there lightly.  Ian deepened the kiss, and Mickey let his hips jut forward, creating some contact against Ian.  Ian peppered some light kisses down Mickey's jaw and neck, letting his arms wrap around Mickey.  He spoke softly right into Mickey's ear.  "Why don't you help me along?" 

Mickey grinned and took Ian's cock into his hands, using his right hand to stroke it from underneath as it hardened. 

"Like that?" Mickey said, grinning. 

"Mmm, but more," Ian said, and Mickey took a firmer grip and stroked faster, his own dick getting hard.  Ian worked his right hand in between their bodies and began stroking Mickey. 

"How do you want me?" Mickey asked again, quieter this time, but with more intensity. 

"On the bed," Ian said, kissing him again before letting him go. 

Mickey crawled onto the bed mainly so he could get to the table on the far side and get out the lube, figuring Ian would position him how he wanted in a second, but apparently Ian liked him on all fours, since he wrapped himself over and around Mickey and grabbed onto his cock again from there. 

"If you had any idea what the sight of your ass like this does to me," he murmured, kissing Mickey right below his ear in a secret spot that he always found to drive Mickey wild. 

Mickey bit down on his lower lip and then swiped his tongue across it as he leaned back into Ian.  Ian let his hands slide down the sides of Mickey's torso and then he took hold of Mickey's ass, spreading his cheeks as he kissed along his spine.  Mickey felt Ian's strong thumbs rubbing circles into his flesh and whined for more. 

"Ian, get the lube, I want you, I want you in me." 

Ian grinned against Mickey's back, and nuzzled his nose against Mickey's soft pale skin.  He got the lube and pooled some in the palm of his hand and then slicked up his fingers and circled Mickey's hole with his index finger. 

"You want me in here?" Ian asked, gently letting his finger slide into Mickey.  Mickey's back arched a bit. 

"Yeah, in there, more, Ian, come on."

Ian wiped the lube that was still on his left hand off best he could on his own cock, and then put his left hand on Mickey's shoulder and went back to kissing his neck while another finger from his right hand slid inside Mickey.  Ian scissored his fingers for a bit then worked a third finger in. 

"Ian, good, that's enough, get in me, want you," Mickey panted.  Ian's breathing was becoming labored too.  He pulled his fingers out of Mickey and picked up the lube again, slathering a generous amount onto his cock.  He held himself by the base and slowly sunk into Mickey.  Ian was holding his breath as Mickey concentrated on remembering to breathe as he took Ian in.  He had missed this so much. 

Ian stilled when he was all the way in, but Mickey didn't need much time. 

"I'm ready," Mickey told Ian.  Ian wriggled his hips a little and grinned, then started pulling back and pushing in, working up to a fast rhythm while Mickey gave encouraging shouts and moans.  Ian hit Mickey's prostate and Mickey gave out a joyous shout.  Ian grinned with pride and concentrated on hitting that spot on every thrust. 

"So fucking good, Mick.  Love you so much," Ian told him.  Ian pulled all the way out.  "Flip over," he said urgently.  "Need to see you, kiss you, love you." 

Mickey wasted no time going turtle.  His blue eyes found Ian's, soft and full of love.  Mickey would never tire of this point of view look up into Ian's face.  Ian grabbed Mickey's hands and laced their fingers. 

"I love you, Ian."  Ian smiled and bent down to kiss Mickey.  Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian since his arms were pinned, their erections rubbed together.  Ian reached down and guided himself back into Mickey, thrusting a few times before he found the spot again.  Mickey threw his head back against the pillow and practically screamed when Ian hit it again.  "Love you!!!!" 

Ian let go of Mickey's hands and put them at Mickey's hips, pulling them up so Ian could drive even deeper into him.  Mickey put his hands in Ian's hair and kept kissing him.  They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat now, and in the low bedside lamp, they looked like they were glowing. 

Mickey was rocking his hips as best he could to meet with Ian's thrusts.  Ian pulled back from kissing Mickey and just stared into his eyes as he continued rocking into him.  Ian took his right hand off Mickey's hip and began to stroke Mickey off with it. 

"Come on, Mickey, come the fuck on.  Come for me."  Mickey came.  Hot and hard and powerless to resist Ian's hypnotic blue-green eyes.  Mickey came with Ian's name on his lips and love in his heart. 

Ian saw it all.  Mickey kept his eyes open as much as he possibly could as his orgasm tore through him.  Ian felt Mickey clenching around him inside, saw that look in his eyes, and he was coming too, shouting his love for Mickey while it happened.  Mickey held him tightly while he pumped into Mickey throughout the seismic event, and then cuddled Ian gently in his arms when it was done.  Ian gently pulled out and collapsed next to Mickey on his back.

After a moment, Mickey found Ian's hand and held it.  After another moment, Ian reached down to the bottom of the bed and pulled the big fluffy white comforter up over them, rolling towards Mickey to be able to look at him.  Mickey decided to give a soft kiss to every freckle he could find on Ian's face.  Ian slotted one of his legs over Mickey's, and Mickey caged one of Ian's feet in between his own.  They fell asleep like that not long after. 

 

 

 

Two years to the day since Mickey first caught sight of Ian checking out his mural, Ian received a text from Mickey asking him to meet him at his Smickeys wall.  That painting had faded over time, but was still there and visible.  Other urban artists left it alone, Mickey was sure it was out of respect, and Ian would blush whenever Mickey would say so.  They passed by it often, because Mickey still got a kick out of seeing it, every time. 

Ian arrived at the time in the text, but Mickey didn't seem to be there.  Ian turned to look all the way around, to see if he could see Mickey approaching from anywhere.  On the opposite wall in the same alley, Ian saw a new mural.  It was of a cartoonish looking man with blue hair in a lighter blue tux, and the wall next to him was splattered with hearts, red against the red brick.  A banner was unfurling behind the man's head, and it said "Will You Marry Me?" and the dude was holding a big sparkly diamond ring.

Ian stared at it dumbfounded until he heard a voice behind him.

“Don’t come around swinging, it’s only me,” Mickey said, the grin audible in his voice before Ian even turned around to see him. He was leaning on the Smickeys wall, hands in pockets, eyebrows up. Ian stood there with his mouth hanging open.  
  
“Well?” Mickey said, to get him to say something.

“Where did you find that shade of blue for the hair? It’s so like your eyes!” Ian exclaimed.

Mickey was exasperated. “THAT’S all you have to say to me? Where’d I get my paint?”

Ian grinned and walked over to the proposal mural. Mickey had left a can of black paint near the YES/NO box he had painted in the corner of the piece and Ian picked it up and shook it, smirking at Mickey all the while. He painted a big check mark in the Yes box, tossed the can over his shoulder, and met Mickey in the middle of the alley walking towards him. They kissed passionately.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a lot of fun to do. I loved the art and it inspired me with so many ideas right off the bat. The photographs of the gusys Blodeuwedd chose fit the story so perfectly, and all the graffiti she picked felt like things they would actually choose to paint. I got the biggest kick out of asking her if she could produce the Smickeys bar art and she sent me back something that far exceeded my imagination. She even gave me a choice of different types of walls for the graffiti to be painted on, and those bricks fit in perfectly with what I can remember from my one visit to Chicago in my life. I hadn't thought of it until I saw her art, but all the parts of Chicago I visited (mostly right around Wrigley Field) had brick buildings everywhere, since that's how the city rebuilt after the Great Fire-they used brick instead of wood. It was amazing that I could have the beginning of an idea in my head ("Can you paint a Snickers bar that says Smickeys instead?") and the next thing I knew, an artist on the other side of the world was emailing her version back to me and it was even better than what I pictured when I asked for it. 
> 
> And please don't ask me why Ian used every letter of the alphabet in his contact list just to leave most of them empty and forcing him to scroll when he wants to call people-it's just an Ian thing, okay? 
> 
> I truly hope everyone enjoys the story!


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